Drma 

al 

7 


MADAME   ROLAND. 


of  ttristorg 


Madame   Roland 


BY 

JOHN   S.  C.  ABBOTT 


WITH     ENGRAVINGS 


NEW    YORK    AND    LONDON 

HARPER   &   BROTHERS   PUBLISHERS 
1904 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  one  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  fifty,  by 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Southern  District 
ol  New  1'ork. 


Copyright,  1878,  by  JANE  W.  ABBOTT. 


PREFACE. 


THE  history  of  Madame  Roland  embraces 
the  most  interesting  events  of  the  French  Rev- 
olution, that  most  instructive  tragedy  which 
time  has  yet  enacted.  There  is,  perhaps,  con- 
tained in  the  memoirs  of  no  other  woman  so 
much  to  invigorate  the  mind  with  the  desire 
for  high  intellectual  culture,  and  so  much  to 
animate  the  spirit  heroically  to  meet  all  the 
ills  of  this  eventful  life.  Notwithstanding 
her  experience  of  the  heaviest  temporal  ca- 
lamities, she  found,  in  the  opulence  of  her 
own  intellectual  treasures,  an  unfailing  re- 
source. These  inward  joys  peopled  her  sol- 
itude with  society,  and  dispelled  even  from 
the  dungeon  its  gloom.  I  know  not  where 
to  look  for  a  career  more  full  of  suggestive 
thought. 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter  Pag* 

I.    CHILDHOOD 12 

II.    YOUTH 33 

HI.    MAIDENHOOD 57 

IV.    MARRIAGE 80 

V.    THE    NATIONAL    ASSEMBLY 105 

VI.    THE    MINISTRY    OF    M.   ROLAND 130 

VII.    MADAME    ROLAND    AND    THE    JACOBINS 155 

VIII.    LAST    STRUGGLE     OF    THE    GIRONDISTS 178 

IX.    ARREST    OF    MADAME    ROLAND 201 

X.    FATE    OF    THE    GIRONDISTS 224 

XI.    PRISON    LIFE 252 

til.   TRIAL    AND    EXECUTION    OF    MADAME    ROLAND..  277 


ENGRAVINGS. 


MADAME  ROLAND Frontispiece. 

THE    VISIT 42 

LA    PLATIERE 97 

ROBESPIERRE 116 

THE    LIBRARY 146 

EXECUTION    OF    THE     GIRONDISTS 247 

MADAME    ROLAND    IN    PRISON 259 

EXECUTION    OF    MADAME   ROLAND.-                                        .  301 


MADAME   ROLAND 

CHAPTER  I. 
CHILDHOOD. 

Character*  developed  by  the  French  Revolution.  Madu*«  Roland 

"V/TANY  characters  of  unusual  grandeur  were 
-L'-I-  developed  by  the  French  Revolution. 
Among  them  all,  there  are  few  more  illustri- 
ous, or  more  worthy  of  notice,  than  that  of  Ma- 
dame Roland.  The  eventful  story  of  her  life 
contains  much  to  inspire  the  mind  with  admi- 
ration and  with  enthusiasm,  and  to  stimulate 
one  to  live  worthily  of  those  capabilities  with 
which  every  human  heart  is  endowed.  No  per- 
son can  read  the  record  of  her  lofty  spirit  and 
of  her  heroic  acts  without  a  higher  appreciation 
of  woman's  power,  and  of  the  mighty  influence 
one  may  wield,  who  combines  the  charms  of  a 
noble  and  highly-cultivated  mind  with  the  fas- 
cinations of  female  delicacy  and  loveliness.  To 
understand  the  secret  of  the  almost  miraculous 
influence  she  exerted,  it  is  necessary  to  trace 
her  career,  with  some  degree  of  minuteness. 


14  MADAME   ROLAND.  [J754 

Orttlen  Phllppon.  Ill*  npimngt  at  bin  lot 

from  the  cradle  to  the  hour  of  her  sublime  and 
heroic  death. 

In  the  year  1754,  there  was  living,  in  an  ob- 
aoure  workshop  in  Paris,  on  the  crowded  Quai 
Jes  Orfevres,  an  engraver  by  the  name  of  Gra- 
tien  Phlippon.  He  had  married  a  very  beau 
tiful  woman,  whose  placid  temperament  and 
cheerful  content  contrasted  strikingly  with  the 
restlessness  and  ceaseless  repinings  of  her  hus- 
oand.  The  comfortable  yet  humble  apartments 
of  the  engraver  were  over  the  shop  where  he 
plied  his  daily  toil.  He  was  much  dissatisfied 
with  his  lowly  condition  in  life,  and  that  his 
family,  in  the  enjoyment  of  frugal  competence 
alone,  were  debarred  from  those  luxuries  which 
were  so  profusely  showered  upon  others.  Bit- 
terly and  unceasingly  he  murmured  that  his  lot 
had  been  cast  in  the  ranks  of  obscurity  and  of 
unsparing  labor,  while  others,  by  a  more  fortu- 
nate, although  no  better  merited  destiny,  were 
born  to  ease  and  affluence,  and  honor  and  lux- 
ury. This  thought  of  the  unjust  inequality  in 
man's  condition,  which  soon  broke  forth  with 
all  the  volcanic  energy  of  the  French  Revolu- 
tion, already  began  to  ferment  in  the  bosoms  of 
the  laboring  classes,  and  no  one  pondered  these 
wide  diversities  with  a  more  restless  spirit,  or 


1754.]  CHILDHOOD.  16 

Views  of  Phllppon.  His  hcstiUty  to  tbe  Chunk 

murmured  more  loudly  and  more  incessantly 
than  Phlippon.  When  the  day's  toil  was  end- 
ed, he  loved  to  gather  around  him  associates 
whose  feelings  harmonized  with  his  own,  and 
to  descant  upon  their  own  grievous  oppression 
and  upon  the  arrogance  of  aristocratic  great- 
ness. With  an  eloquence  which  often  deeply 
moved  his  sympathizing  auditory,  and  fanned  to 
greater  intensity  the  fires  which  were  consum- 
ing his  own  heart,  he  contrasted  their  doom  of 
sleepless  labor  and  of  comparative  penury  with 
the  brilliance  of  the  courtly  throng,  living  in 
idle  luxury,  and  squandering  millions  in  the 
amusements  at  Versailles,  and  sweeping  in 
charioted  splendor  through  the  Champs  Ely  see. 
Phlippon  was  a  philosopher,  not  a  Christian. 
Submission  was  a  virtue  he  had  never  learned, 
and  never  wished  to  learn.  Christianity,  as  he 
saw  it  developed  before  him  only  in  the  power- 
ful enginery  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church, 
was,  in  his  view,  but  a  formidable  barrier 
against  the  liberty  and  the  elevation  of  the  peo- 
ple— a  bulwark,  bristling  with  superstition  and 
bayonets^  behind  which  nobles  and  kings  were 
securely  intrenched.  He  consequently  became 
as  hostile  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Church  as  he 
was  to  the  institutions  of  the  state.  The  moo- 


16  MADAME    ROLAND.  [1754. 

Orifia  of  the  French  Revolution.  Character  of  Madame  Phttppo* 

arch  was,  in  his  eye,  a  tyrant,  and  God  a  delu- 
sion. The  enfranchisement  of  the  people,  in  his 
judgment,  required  the  overthrow  of  both  the 
earthly  and  the  celestial  monarch.  In  these 
ideas,  agitating  the  heart  of  Phlippon,  behold 
the  origin  of  the  French  Revolution.  They 
were  diffused  in  pamphlets  and  daily  papers  in 
theaters  and  cafes.  They  were  urged  by  work- 
men in  their  shops,  by  students  in  their  closets. 
They  became  the  inspiring  spirit  of  science  La 
encyclopedias  and  reviews,  and  formed  the  cho- 
rus in  all  the  songs  of  revelry  and  libertinism 
These  sentiments  spread  from  heart  to  heart, 
through  Paris,  through  the  provinces,  till  France 
rose  like  a  demon  in  its  wrath,  and  the  very 
globe  trembled  beneath  its  gigantic  and  indig- 
nant tread. 

Madame  Phlippon  was  just  the  reverse  of  her 
husband.  She  was  a  woman  in  whom  faith, 
and  trust,  and  submission  predominated.  She 
surrendered  her  will,  without  questioning,  to  all 
thf  teachings  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  She  was 
placid,  contented,  and  cheerful,  and,  though  un 
inquiring  in  her  devotion,  undoubtedly  sincere 
in  her  piety.  In  every  event  of  life  she  recog- 
nized the  overruling  hand  of  Providence,  and 
feeling  that -the  comparatively  humble  lot  a» 


1754.]  CHILDHOOD.  1? 

Birth  of  Jane  Maria.  Adored  by  h«r  parent* 

gigned  her  was  in  accordance  with  the  will  of 
God,  she  indulged  in  no  repinings,  and  envied 
not  the  more  brilliant  destiny  of  lords  and  la- 
dies. An  industrious  housewife,  she  hummed 
the  hymns  of  contentment  and  peace  from  morn- 
ing till  evening.  In  the  cheerful  performance 
of  her  daily  toil,  she  was  ever  pouring  the  balm 
of  her  peaceful  spirit  upon  the  restless  heart  of 
her  spouse.  Phlippon  loved  his  wife,  and  often 
felt  the  superiority  of  her  Christian  tempera 
ment. 

Of  eight  children  born  to  these  parents,  one 
only,  Jeanne  Manon,  or  Jane  Mary,  survived 
the  hour  of  birth.  Her  father  first  received  her 
to  his  arms  in  1754,  and  she  became  the  object 
of  his  painful  and  most  passionate  adoration. 
Her  mother  pressed  the  coveted  treasure  to  her 
bosom  with  maternal  love,  more  calm,  and  deep, 
and  enduring.  And  now  Jane  became  the  cen- 
tral star  in  this  domestic  system.  Both  parents 
lived  in  her  and  for  her.  She  was  their  earth- 
ly all.  The  mother  wished  to  train  her  for  the 
Church  and  for  heaven,  that  she  might  become 
an  angel  and  dwell  by  the  throne  of  God. 
These  bright  hopes  gilded  a  prayerful  mother's 
hours  of  toil  and  care.  The  father  bitterly  re- 
Dined  Why  should  his  bright  and  beautifu, 
18—2 


18  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1750. 

Discontent  of  I'hllppon.  Hi*  complaining!  to  hl»  chll* 

child — who  even  in  these  her  infantile  yoari 
was  giving  indication  of  the  most  brilliant  in- 
telleot — why  should  she  be  doomed  to  a  life  of 
obscurity  and  toil,  while  the  garden  of  the  Tuil- 
eries  and  the  Elysian  Fields  were  thronged 
with  ehildren,  neither  so  beautiful  nor  so  intel- 
ligent, who  were  reveling  in  boundless  wealth, 
and  living  in  a  world  of  luxury  and  splendor 
which,  to  Phlippon's  imagination,  seemed  more 
alluring  than  any  idea  he  could  form  of  heaven  ? 
These  thoughts  were  a  consuming  fire  in  the 
bosom  of  the  ambitious  father.  They  burned 
with  inextinguishable  flame. 

The  fond  parent  made  the  sprightly  and  fas- 
oinating  child  his  daily  companion.  He  led  her 
by  the  hand,  and  confided  to  her  infantile  spirit 
all  his  thoughts,  his  illusions,  his  day-dreams. 
To  her  listening  ear  he  told  the  story  of  the  ar- 
•ogance  of  nobles,  of  the  pride  of  kings,  and  of 
t.He  oppression  by  which  he  deemed  himsr.lf  un- 
justly doomed  to  a  life  of  penury  and  toil.  The 
light-hearted  child  was  often  weary  of  these 
complainings,  and  turned  for  relief  to  the  pla- 
cidity and  cheerfulness  of  her  mother's  mind. 
Here  she  found  repose — a  soothing,  calm,  and 
holy  submission.  Still  the  gloom  of  her  father's 
spirit  oast  a~pensive  shade  over  her  own  feel- 


1755.J  CHILDHOOD.  19 

Karly  traits  of  character.  LOT*  of  bocka 

ings,  and  infused  a  tone  of  melancholy  and  an 
air  of  unnatural  reflection  into  her  character. 
By  nature,  Jane  was  endowed  with  a  soul  of 
unusual  delicacy.  From  early  childhood,  all 
khat  is  beautiful  or  sublime  in  nature,  in  litera- 
ture, in  character,  had  charms  to  rivet  her  en- 
tranced attention.  She  loved  to  sit  alone  at 
her  chamber  window  in  the  evening  of  a  sum- 
mer's day,  to  gaze  upon  the  gorgeous  hues  of 
sunset.  As  her  imagination  roved  through 
those  portals  of  a  brighter  world,  which  seemed 
thus,  through  far-reaching  vistas  of  glory,  to  be 
opened  to  her,  she  peopled  the  sun-lit  expanse 
with  the  creations  of  her  own  fancy,  and  often 
wept  in  uncontrollable  emotion  through  the  in 
fluence  of  these  gathering  thoughts.  Books 
of  impassioned  poetry,  and  descriptions  of  he- 
roic character  and  achievements,  were  her  es- 
pecial delight.  Plutarch's  Lives,  that  book 
which,  more  than  any  other,  appears  to  be  the 
incentive  of  early  genius,  was  hid  beneath  her 
pillow,  and  read  and  re-read  with  tireless  avid- 
ity  Those  illustrious  heroes  of  antiquity  be- 
eame  the  companions  of  her  solitude  and  of  her 
hourly  thoughts.  She  adored  them  and  loved 
diem  as  her  own  most  intimate  personal  friends. 
Her  character  became  insensibly  molded  to 


26  MADAME  ROLAND  [1757 

Unfli  thlrs*  tor  roviing.  Bar  ton  at  fewer* 

their  forms,  and  she  was  inspired  with  restless 
enthusiasm  to  imitate  their  deeds.  When  but 
twelve  years  of  age,  her  father  found  her,  one 
day,  weeping  that  she  was  not  born  a  Roman 
maiden.  Little  did  she  then  imagine  that,  by 
talent,  by  suffering,  and  by  heroism,  she  was 
to  display  a  character  the  history  of  which 
would  eclipse  the  proudest  narratives  in  Greek 
or  Roman  story. 

Jane  appears  never  to  have  known  the  frivol- 
ity and  thoughtlessness  of  childhood.  Before 
she  had  entered  the  fourth  year  of  her  age  she 
knew  how  to  read  From  that  time  her  thirst 
for  reading  was  so  great,  that  her  parents  found 
no  little  difficulty  in  furnishing  her  with  a  suf- 
ficient supply.  She  not  only  read  with  eager- 
ness every  book  which  met  her  eye,  but  pur- 
sued this  uninterrupted  miscellaneous  reading 
to  singular  advantage,  treasuring  up  all  import- 
ant facts  in  her  retentive  memory.  So  entire- 
ly absorbed  was  she  in  her  books,  that  the  only 
successful  mode  of  withdrawing  her  from  them 
was  by  offering  her  flowers,  of  which  she  was 
passionately  fond.  Books  and  flowers  contin- 
ued, through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  her  life,  even 
till  the  hour_of  her  death,  to  afford  her  the  most 
exquisite  pleasure.  She  had  no  playmates,  and 


1760.]  CHILDHOOD.  21 

Jane'i  personal  appearance.  Thirst  for  knowledga 

thought  no  more  of  play  than  did  her  father  and 
mother,  who  were  her  only  and  her  constant 
companions.  From  infancy  she  was  accustom 
ed  to  the  thoughts  and  the  emotions  of  mature 
minds.  In  personal  appearance  she  was,  in  ear- 
liest childhood  and  through  life,  peculiarly  in- 
teresting rather  than  beautiful.  As  mature 
years  perfected  her  features  and  her  form,  there 
was  in  the  contour  of  her  graceful  figure,  and 
her  intellectual  countenance,  that  air  of  thought- 
fulness,  of  pensiveness,  of  glowing  tenderness 
and  delicacy,  which  gave  her  a  power  of  fasci- 
nation over  all  hearts.  She  sought  not  this 
power ;  she  thought  not  of  it ;  but  an  almost 
resistless  attraction  and  persuasion  accompa 
nied  all  her  words  and  actions. 

It  was,  perhaps,  the  absence  of  playmates, 
and  the  habitual  converse  with  mature  minds, 
which,  at  so  early  an  age,  inspired  Jane  with 
that  insatiate  thirst  for  knowledge  which  she 
ever  manifested.  Books  were  her  only  resource 
in  every  unoccupied  hour.  From  her  walks 
with  her  father,  and  her  domestic  employments 
with  her  mother,  she  turned  to  her  little  library 
and  to  her  chamber  window,  and  lost  herself  in 
the  limitless  realms  of  thought.  It  is  often  in* 
%gined  that  character  is  the  result  of  accident 


22  MADAME    ROLAND.  [1760 

gttU.  A  wmlk  on  th«  Boalerwd* 


—  that  there  is  a  native  and  inherent  tendency, 
which  triumphs  over  circumstances,  and  works 
out  its  own  results.  Without  denying  that 
there  may  be  different  intellectual  gifts  with 
which  the  soul  may  be  endowed  as  it  comes 
from  the  hand  of  the  Creator,  it  surely  is  not 
difficult  to  perceive  that  the  peculiar  training 
through  which  the  childhood  of  Jane  was  con- 
ducted was  calculated  to  form  the  peculiar  char 
acter  which  she  developed. 

In  a  bright  summer's  afternoon  she  might  be 
seen  sauntering  along  the  Boulevards,  led  by 
her  father's  hand,  gazing  upon  that  scene  of 
gayety  with  which  the  eye  is  never  wearied. 
A  gilded  coach,  drawn  by  the  most  beautiful 
horses  in  the  richest  trappings,  sweeps  along 
the  streets  —  a  gorgeous  vision.  Servants  in 
showy  livery,  and  out-riders  proudly  mounted, 
invest  the  spectacle  with  a  degree  of  grandeur, 
oeneath  which  the  imagination  of  a  child  sinks 
exhausted.  Phlippon  takes  his  little  daughter 
in  his  arms  to  show  her  the  sight,  and,  as  she 
gazes  in  infantile  wonder  and  delight,  the  dis- 
contented father  says,  "  Look  at  that  lord,  and 
'»dy,  and  child,  lolling  so  voluptuously  in  their 
ooaoh.  They  have  no  right  there.  Why  must 
I  and  my  child  walk  on  this  hot  pavement, 


1762.]  CHILDHOOD.  23 

PUlppon  §  talk  to  htl  child.  Yocthfcl  dream* 

while  they  repose  on  velvet  cushions  and  revel 
in  al  luxury  ?  Oppressive  laws  compel  me  to 
pay  a  portion  of  my  hard  earnings  to  support 
them  in  their  pride  and  indolence.  But  a  time 
will  come  when  the  people  will  awake  to  the 
consciousness  of  their  wrongs,  and  their  tyrants 
will  tremble  before  them."  He  continues  his 
walk  in  moody  silence,  brooding  over  his  sense 
of  injustice.  They  return  to  their  home.  Jane 
wishes  that  her  father  kept  a  carriage,  and  liv- 
sried  servants  and  out-riders.  She  thinks  of 
politics,  and  of  the  tyranny  of  kings  and  nobles, 
and  of  the  unjust  inequalities  of  man.  She  re- 
tires to  the  solitude  of  her  loved  chamber  win- 
dow, and  reads  of  Aristides  the  Just,  of  The- 
mistocles  with  his  Spartan  virtues,  of  Brutus, 
and  of  the  mother  of  the  Gracchi.  Greece  and 
Rome  rise  before  her  in  all  their  ancient  re- 
nown. She  despises  the  frivolity  of  Paris,  the 
effeminacy  of  the  moderns,  and  her  youthful 
bosom  throbs  with  the  desire  of  being  noble  in 
spirit  and  of  achieving  great  exploits.  Thus, 
when  other  children  of  her  age  were  playing 
with  their  dolls,  she  was  dreaming  of  the  pros- 
tration of  nobles  and  of  the  overthrow  of  thrones 
)f  Hberty,  and  fraternity,  and  equality  among 


24  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1762. 

Influence  of  Jane's  parent*  orer  her.  Education  la  coarmu 

mankind.     Strange  dreams  for  a  child,  bat  still 
mere  strange  in  their  fulfillment. 

The  infidelity  of  her  father  and  the  piety  of 
her  mother  contended,  like  counter  currents  of 
the  ocean,  in  her  bosom.  Her  active  intellect 
and  love  of  freedom  sympathized  with  the  spec- 
ulations  of  the  so-called  philosopher.  Her  ami- 
able and  affectionate  disposition  and  her  pensive 
meditations  led  her  to  seek  repose  in  the  sub- 
lime conceptions  and  in  the  soul-soothing  con- 
solations of  the  Christian.  Her  parents  were 
deeply  interested  in  her  education,  and  were 
desirous  of  giving  her  every  advantage  for  se- 
curing the  highest  attainments.  The  educa- 
tion of  young  ladies,  at  that  time,  in  France, 
was  conducted  almost  exclusively  by  nuns  in 
convents.  The  idea  of  the  silence  and  solitude 
of  the  cloister  inspired  the  highly-imaginative 
girl  with  a  blaze  of  enthusiasm.  Fondly  as  she 
loved  her  home,  she  was  impatient  for  the  hour 
to  arrive  when,  with  heroic  self-sacrifice,  she 
oould  withdraw  from  the  world  and  its  pleas- 
ares,  and  devote  her  whole  soul  to  devotion,  to 
meditation,  and  to  study.  Her  mother's  spirit 
of  religion  was  exerting  a  powerful  influence 
over  her,  and  one  evening  she  fell  at  her  feet, 
and,  bursting*  into  tears,  besought  that  she 


1764.]  CHILDHOOD.  25 

JUM  Mat  to  •  exiTout.  Parting  with  her  mother 

might  be  sent  to  a  convent  to  prepare  to  receive 
her  first  Christian  communion  in  a  suitable 
frame  of  mind. 

The  convent  of  the  sisterhood  of  the  Congre- 
gation in  Paris  was  selected  for  Jane.  In  the 
review  of  her  life  which  she  subsequently  wrote 
while  immured  in  the  dungeons  of  the  Concier- 
gerie,  she  says,  in  relation  to  this  event,  "While 
pressing  my  dear  mother  in  my  arms,  at  the 
moment  of  parting  with  her  for  the  first  time 
in  my  life,  I  thought  my  heart  would  have  bro- 
ken ;  but  I  was  acting  in  obedience  to  the  voice 
of  God,  and  I  passed  the  threshold  of  the  clois- 
ter, tearfully  offering  up  to  him  the  greatest 
sacrifice  I  was  capable  of  making.  This  was 
an  the  7th  of  May,  1765,  when  I  was  eleven 
years  and  two  months  old.  In  the  gloom  of  a 
prison,  in  the  midst  of  political  storms  which 
ravage  my  country,  and  sweep  away  all  that  is 
dear  to  me,  how  shall  I  recall  to  my  mind,  an! 
how  describe  the  rapture  and  tranquillity  I  en- 
joyed at  this  period  of  my  life  ?  What  lively 
colors  can  express  the  soft  emotions  of  a  young 
heart  endued  with  tenderness  and  sensibility, 
greedy  of  happiness,  beginning  to  be  alive  to 
the  beauties- of  nature,  and  perceiving  the  IV/.ty 
alone  ?  The  first  night  I  spent  in  the  convent 


26  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1765 


was  a  night  of  agitation.  I  was  no  longer  un- 
der the  paternal  roof.  I  was  at  a  distance  from 
that  kind  mother,  who  was  doubtless  thinking 
of  me  with  affectionate  emotion.  A  dim  'ight 
diffused  itself  through  the  room  in  which  I  had 
been  put  to  bed  with  four  children  of  my  own 
age.  I  stole  softly  from  my  couch,  and  drew 
near  the  window,  the  light  of  the  moun  enabling 
.ne  to  distinguish  the  garden,  which  it  over- 
looked. The  deepest  silence  prevailed  around, 
and  I  listened  to  it,  if  I  may  use  the  expression, 
with  a  sort  of  respect.  Lofty  trees  cast  their 
gigantic  shadows  along  the  ground,  and  prom- 
ised a  secure  asylum  to  peaceful  meditation. 
I  lifted  up  my  eyes  to  the  heavens ;  they  were 
unclouded  and  serene.  I  imagined  that  I  felt 
the  presence  of  the  Deity  smiling  upon  my  sac- 
rifice, and  already  offering  me  a  reward  in  the 
consolatory  hope  of  a  celestial  abode.  Tears  of 
delight  flowed  down  my  cheeks.  I  repeatod  my 
TOWS  with  holy  ecstasy,  and  went  to  bed  again 
to  taste  the  slumber  of  God's  chosen  children." 
Her  thirst  for  knowledge  was  insatiate,  and 
with  untiring  assiduity  she  pursued  her  stud- 
ies. Every  hour  of  the  day  had  its  appropriate 
employment,  and  time  flew  upon  its  swiftest 
wings  Evsry  book  which  fell  in  her  wav  she 


1.765. j  CHILDHOOD.  27 

June  •  book*  of  ftudy.  Her  proficiency  la  marie  and  drawing 

eagerly  perused,  and  treasured  its  knowledge  or 
its  literary  beauties  in  her  memory.  Heraldry 
and  books  of  romance,  lives  of  the  saints  and 
fairy  legends,  biography,  travels,  history,  polit- 
ical philosophy,  poetry,  and  treatises  upon  mor- 
als, were  all  read  and  meditated  upon  by  this 
young  child.  She  had  no  taste  for  any  childish 
amusements ;  and  in  the  hours  of  recreation, 
when  the  mirthful  girls  around  her  were  forget- 
ting study  and  care  in  those  games  appropriate 
to  their  years,  she  would  walk  alone  in  the  gar- 
den, admiring  the  flowers,  and  gazing  upon  the 
fleecy  clouds  in  the  sky.  In  all  the  beauties  of 
nature  her  eye  ever  recognized  the  hand  of  God, 
and  she  ever  took  pleasure  in  those  sublime 
thoughts  of  infinity  and  eternity  which  must 
engross  eveiy  noble  mind.  Her  teachers  had 
but  little  to  do.  Whatever  study  she  engaged 
in  was  pursued  with  such  spontaneous  zeal, 
that  success  had  crowned  her  efforts  before  oth- 
ers had  hardly  made  a  beginning. 

In  music  and  drawing  she  made  great  profi- 
ciency. She  was  even  more  fond  of  all  that  i» 
beautiful  and  graceful  in  the  accomplishments 
of  a  highly-cultivated  mind,  than  in  those  more 
solid  studies  which  she  nevertheless  pursued 
with  BO  much  energy  and  interest. 


28  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1766 

Beenr*  In  the  convent.  Impression*  made  by  them 

The  scenes  which  she  witnessed  in  the  con- 
vent were  peculiarly  calculated  to  produce  an 
indelible  impression  upon  a  mind  so  imagina- 
tive. The  chapel  for  prayer,  with  its  somber 
twilight  and  its  dimly-burning  tapers ;  the  dirg- 
es which  the  organ  breathed  upon  the  trembling 
ear ;  the  imposing  pageant  of  prayer  and  praise, 
with  the  blended  costumes  of  monks  and  hood- 
ed nuns ;  the  knell  which  tolled  the  requiem  of 
a 'departed  sister,  as,  in  the  gloom  of  night  and 
by  the  light  of  torches,  she  was  conveyed  to  her 
burial — all  these  concomitants  of  that  system 
of  pageantry,  arranged  so  skillfully  to  impress 
the  senses  of  the  young  and  the  imaginative, 
fanned  to  the  highest  elevation  the  flames  of 
that  poetic  temperament  she  so  eminently  pos- 
sessed. 

God  thus  became  in  Jane's  mind  a  vision  of 
poetic  beauty.  Religion  was  the  inspiration  of 
enthusiasm  and  of  sentiment.  The  worship  of 
the  Deity  was  blended  with  all  that  was  enno- 
bling and  beautiful  Moved  by  these  glowing 
fancisp,  her  susceptible  spirit,  in  these  tendei 
years,  turned  away  from  atheism,  from  infidel- 
ity, from  irreligion,  as  from  that  which  was  un- 
refined, revolting,  vulgar.  The  consciousness 
•f  the  presence  of  God,  the  adoration  of  his  b«* 


1766.]  CHILDHOOD.  29 

Poetic  enthtutafm.  Taking  the  reO. 

ing,  became  a  passion  of  her  sou*.  This  state 
of  mind  was  poetry,  not  religion.  It  involved 
QO  sense  of  the  spirituality  of  the  Divine  Law, 
no  consciousness  of  unworthiness,  no  need  of  a 
Savior.  It  was  an  emotion  sublime  and  beau- 
tiful, yet  merely  such  an  emotion  as  any  one  of 
susceptible  temperament  might  feel  when  stand- 
ing in  the  Vale  of  Chamouni  at  midnight,  or 
when  listening  to  the  crash  of  thunder  as  the 
tempest  wrecks  the  sky,  or  when  one  gazes  en- 
tranced upon  the  fair  face  of  nature  in  a  mild 
and  lovely  morning  of  June,  when  no  cloud  ap- 
pears in  the  blue  canopy  above  us,  and  no  breeze 
ruffles  the  leaves  of  the  grove  or  the  glassy  sur- 
face of  the  lake,  and  the  songs  of  birds  and  the 
perfume  of  flowers  fill  the  air.  Many  mistake 
the  highly  poetic  enthusiasm  which  such  scenes 
excite  for  the  spirit  of  piety. 

While  Jane  was  an  inmate  of  the  convent, 
a  very  interesting  young  lady,  from  some  dis- 
appointment weary  of  the  world,  took  the  veil. 
When  one  enters  a  convent  with  the  intention 
of  becoming  a  nun,  she  first  takes  the  white 
veil,  which  is  an  expression  of  h«r  intentu  L, 
and  thus  enters  the  grade  of  a  novice.  During 
the  period  of  her  novitiate,  which  continues  for 
ievoral  months,  she  is  exposed  to  the  severest 


80  MADAME  ROLANH.  [1767. 

Taking  the  Mack  rail  Effect  vpoB  JUM 

discipline  of  vigils,  and  fastings,  and  solitude, 
and  prayer,  that  she  may  distinctly  understand 
the  life  of  weariness  and  self-denial  upon  which 
•he  has  entered.  If,  unintimidated  by  these 
hardships,  she  still  persists  in  her  determination, 
she  then  takes  the  black  veil,  and  utters  her 
solemn  and  irrevocable  vows  to  bury  herself  in 
the  gloom  of  the  cloister,  never  again  to  emerge. 
From  this  step  there  is  no  return.  The  throb- 
bing heart,  which  neither  cowls  nor  veils  can 
still,  finds  in  the  taper-lighted  cell  its  living 
tomb,  till  it  sleeps  in  death.  No  one  with  even 
an  ordinary  share  of  sensibility  can  witness  a 
ceremony  involving  such  consequences  without 
the  deepest  emotion.  The  scene  produced  an 
effect  upon  the  spirit  of  Jane  which  was  never 
effaced.  The  wreath  of  flowers  which  crown- 
ed the  beautiful  victim ;  the  veil  enveloping  her 
person ;  the  solemn  and  dirge-like  chant,  the 
requiem  of  her  burial  to  all  the  pleasures  of 
sense  and  time ;  the  pall  which  overspread  her, 
emblematic  of  her  consignment  to  a  living  tomb, 
all  so  deeply  affected  the  impassioned  child, 
that,  burying  her  face  in  her  hands,  she  wept 
with  uncontrollable  emotion. 

The  thought  of  the  magnitude  of  the  sacri- 
fice which  the  young  novice  was  making  ap- 


1767.J  CHILDHOOD.  31 

Lofty  aspiration*.  Remark  of  Napoleo*. 

pealed  irresistibly  to  her  admiration  of  the  mor- 
ally sublime.  There  was  in  that  relinquish- 
ment  of  all  the  joys  of  earth  a  self-surrender  to 
a  passionless  life  of  mortification,  and  penance, 
and  prayer,  an  apparent  heroism,  which  remind- 
ed Jane  of  her  much-admired  Roman  maidens 
and  matrons.  She  aspired  with  most  romantic 
ardor  to  do,  herself,  something  great  and  noble. 
While  her  sound  judgment  could  not  but  con- 
demn this  abandonment  of  life,  she  was  inspired 
with  the  loftiest  enthusiasm  to  enter,  in  some 
worthy  way,  upon  a  life  of  endurance,  of  sacri- 
fice, and  of  martyrdom.  She  felt  that  she  was 
born  for  the  performance  of  some  great  deeds, 
and  she  looked  down  with  contempt  upon  ail 
the  ordinary  vocations  of  every-day  life.  These 
were  the  dreams  of  a  romantic  girl.  They  were 
not,  however,  the  fleeting  visions  of  a  sickly  and 
sentimental  mind,  but  the  deep,  soul-moving 
aspirations  of  one  of  the  strongest  intellects  over 
which  imagination  has  ever  swayed  its  scepter. 
One  is  reminded  by  these  early  developments 
of  character  of  the  remark  of  Napoleon,  when 
some  one  said,  in  his  presence,  "  It  is  nothing 
but  imagination."  "  Nothing  but  imagina- 
tion !"  replied  this  sagacious  observer  ;  "  imag- 
ination rules  the  world  /" 


32  MADAME   Re  LAND.  {1767 

Jtne'l  contempt  of  ease  and  luxnry .  Her  *elf-de&U! 

These  dim  visions  of  greatness,  these  lofty 
aspirations,  not  for  renown,  but  for  the  inward 
oonsciousness  of  intellectual  elevation,  of  moral 
mblimity,  of  heroism,  had  no  influence,  as  is 
ordinarily  the  case  with  day-dreams,  to  give 
Jane  a  distaste  for  life's  energetic  duties.  They 
did  not  enervate  her  character,  or  convert  her 
into  a  mere  visionary ;  on  the  contrary,  they 
but  roused  and  invigorated  her  to  alacrity  in 
the  discharge  of  every  duty.  They  led  her  to 
despise  ease  and  luxury,  to  rejoice  in  self-de- 
nial, and  to  cultivate,  to  the  highest  possible 
degree,  all  her  faculties  of  body  and  of  mind, 
that  she  might  be  prepared  for  any  possible  des- 
tiny. Wild  as,  at  times,  her  imaginings  might 
have  been,  her  most  vivid  fancy  never  could 
have  pictured  a  career  so  extraordinary  as  that 
to  which  reality  introduced  her ;  and  in  all  the 
annals  of  ancient  story,  she  could  find  no  record 
of  sufferings  and  privations  more  severe  than 
those  which  she  was  called  upon  to  endure. 
And  neither  heroine  nor  hero  of  any  age  has 
shed  greater  luster  upon  human  nature  by  the 
cheerful  fortitude  wif  h  which  adversity  has  been 
braved 


YOUTH.  31 

Its  iufluaac*  upon  JMM 


CHAPTER  II. 
YOUTH. 

fTTHE  influence  of  those  intense  emotions 
-"•  which  were  excited  in  the  bosom  of  Jane 
by  the  scenes  which  she  witnessed  in  her  child- 
hood in  the  nunnery  were  never  effaced  irom 
her  imaginative  mind.  Nothing  can  be  con- 
ceived more  strongly  calculated  to  impress  the 
feelings  of  a  romantic  girl,  than  the  poetic  at- 
tractions which  are  thrown  around  the  Roman 
Catholic  religion  by  nuns,  and  cloisters,  and 
dimly-lighted  chapels,  and  faintly-burning  ta- 
pers, and  matins,  and  vespers,  and  midnight 
dirges.  Jane  had  just  the  spirit  to  be  most 
deeply  captivated  by  such  enchantments.  She 
reveled  in  those  imaginings  which  clustered  in 
the  dim  shades  of  the  cloister,  in  an  ecstasy  of 
luxurious  enjoyment.  The  ordinary  motive 
which  influence  young  girls  of  her  age  seem  to 
have  had  no  control  over  her.  Her  joys  were 
most  highly  intellectual  and  spiritual,  and  he? 
aspirations  were  far  above  the  usual  conceptions 
of  childhood.  She,  for  a  time,  became  entire]1 
18—3 


34  MADAME   ROLAND. 

Jane  leave*  the  con  rent  Her  attachment  to  one  of  the  nun* 

fascinated  by  the  novel  scenes  around  her,  and 
surrendered  her  whole  soul  to  the  dominion  of 
the  associations  with  which  she  was  engrossed 
In  subsequent  years,  by  the  energies  of  a  vigor- 
ous philosophy,  she  disenfranchised  her  intellect 
from  these  illusions,  and,  proceeding  to  another 
extreme,  wandered  in  the  midst  of  the  cheerless 
mazes  of  unbelief;  but  her  fancy  retained  the 
traces  of  these  early  impressions  until  the  hour 
of  her  death.  Christianity,  even  when  most 
heavily  encumbered  with  earthly  corruption,  is 
infinitely  preferable  to  no  religion  at  all.  Even 
papacy  has  never  swayed  so  bloody  a  scepter  as 
infidelity. 

Jane  remained  in  the  convent  one  year,  and 
then,  with  deep  regret,  left  the  nuns,  to  whom 
she  had  become  extremely  attached.  With  one 
of  the  sisters,  who  was  allied  to  the  nobility, 
she  formed  a  strong  friendship,  which  continued 
through  life.  For  many  years  she  kept  up  a 
constant  correspondence  with  this  friend,  and 
to  this  correspondence  she  attributes,  in  a  great 
rtsgree,  that  facility  in  writing  which  contrib- 
uted so  much  to  her  subsequent  celebrity.  This 
letter- writing  is  >ne  of  the  best  schools  of  com 
position,  and  the  parent  who  is  emulous  of  the 
improvement  of  his  children  in  that  respect, 


YOUTH.  35 

•MM  partake*  of  the  Lord'*  Supper.        Preparation*  far  the  wlemBlty, 

will  do  all  in  his  power  to  encourage  the  con- 
slant  use  of  the  pen  in  these  familiar  epistles. 
Thus  the  most  important  study,  the  study  of 
tha  power  of  expression,  is  converted  into  a 
pleasure,  and  is  pursued  with  an  avidity  which 
will  infallibly  secure  success.  It  its  a  sad  mis- 
take to  frown  upon  such  efforts  as  a  waste  of 
time. 

While  in  the  convent,  she,  for  the  first  time, 
partook  of  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper. 
Her  spirit  was  most  deeply  impressed  and  over- 
awed by  the  sacredness  of  the  ceremony.  Du- 
ring several  weeks  previous  to  her  reception  of 
this  solemn  ordinance,  by  solitude,  self-examin- 
ation, and  prayer,  she  endeavored  to  prepare 
herself  for  that  sacred  engagement,  which  she 
deemed  the  pledge  of  her  union  to  God,  and  of 
her  eternal  felicity.  When  the  hour  arrived, 
her  feelings  were  so  intensely  excited  that  she 
wept  convulsively,  and  she  was  entirely  incap- 
able of  walking  to  the  altar.  She  was  borne  in 
the  arms  of  two  of  the  nuns.  This  depth  of 
emotion  was  entirely  unaffected,  and  secured  for 
h«r  the  peculiar  reverence  of  the  sacred  sisters. 

That  spirit  of  pensive  reverie,  so  dangerous 
and  yet  so  fascinating,  to  which  she  loved  to 
•nrrender  herself,  was  peculiarly  in  harmon> 


36  MADAME   KOLANII. 

Jane'i  delight  In  meditation.  Departure  from  the  eonrwt 

with  all  the  influences  with  which  she  was  sur- 
rounded in  the  convent,  and  constituted  tilt 
very  soul  of  the  piety  of  its  inmates.  She  wag 
encouraged  by  the  commendations  of  all  the 
sisters  to  deliver  her  mind  up  to  the  dominion 
af  these  day-dreams,  with  whose  intoxicating 
power  every  heart  is  more  or  less  familiar.  She 
loved  to  retire  to  the  solitude  of  the  cloisters, 
when  the  twilight  was  deepening  into  darkness, 
and  alone,  with  measured  steps,  to  pace  to  and 
fro,  listening  to  the  monotonous  echoes  of  her 
own  footfall,  which  alone  disturbed  the  soUrnn 
silence.  At  the  tomb  of  a  departed  sister  she 
would  often  linger,  and,  indulging  in  those  mel- 
ancholy meditations  which  had  for  her  so  many 
charms,  long  for  her  own  departure  to  the  bo- 
som of  her  heavenly  Father,  where  she  might 
enjoy  that  perfect  happiness  for  which,  at  times, 
her  spirit  glowed  with  such  intense  aspirations 
At  the  close  of  the  year  Jane  left  the  peace- 
ful retreat  where  she  had  enjoyed  so  much,  and 
where  she  had  received  so  many  impressions 
never  to  be  effaced.  Her  parents,  engrossed 
with  care,  were  unable  to  pay  that  attention  to 
their  child  which  her  expanding  mind  required, 
and  she  was  sent  to  pass  her  thirteenth  yeai 
with  her  paternal  grandmother  and  her  aun« 


YOUTH.  87 

Jane  goaf  to  Hve  with  her  grandmother.  Character  of  the  latter 

Angelieu.  Her  grandmother  was  a  dignified 
lady  of  much  refinement  of  mind  and  graceful- 
ness of  demeanor,  who  laid  great  stress  upon  all 
the  courtesies  of  life  and  the  elegances  of  man- 
ners and  address.  Her  aunt  was  gentle  and 
warm-hearted,  and  her  spirit  was  deeply  im- 
bued with  that  humble  and  docile  piety,  which 
has  so  often  shone  out  with  pure  luster  even 
through  all  the  encumbrances  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church.  With  them  she  spent  a  year, 
in  a  seclusion  from  the  world  almost  as  entire 
as  that  which  she  found  in  the  solitude  of  the 
convent.  An  occasional  visit  to  her  parents, 
and  to  her  old  friends  the  nuns,  was  all  that  in- 
terrupted the  quiet  routine  of  daily  duties. 
Books  continued  still  her  employment  and  her 
delight.  Her  habits  of  reverie  continued  un- 
broken. Her  lofty  dreams  gained  a  daily  in- 
creasing ascendency  over  her  character. 

She  thus  continued  to  dwell  in  the  boundless 
regions  of  the  intellect  and  the  affections  Even 
the  most  commonplace  duties  of  life  w  >re  ren- 
dered attractive  to  her  by  investing  them  with 
a  mysterious  connection  with  her  own  limitless 
being.  Absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts,  ever 
communing  with  herself,  with  nature,  with  the 
Deity,  as  the  object  of  her  highest  sentiment 


38  MADAME   ROLAND. 

Jane'i  intellectual  progrea*.  Her  fathar'*  datlfkt 

and  aspirations,  though  she  did  not  despise  those 
of  a  more  humble  mental  organization,  she  gave 
them  not  a  thought.  The  evening  twilight  of 
every  fine  day  still  found  her  at  her  chamber 
window,  admiring  the  glories  of  the  setting  sun, 
and  feeding  her  impassioned  spirit  with  those 
visions  of  future  splendor  and  happiness  which 
the  scene  appeared  to  reveal.  She  fancied  she 
could  almost  see  the  wings  of  angels  gleaming 
in  the  purple  sunlight.  Through  those  gor- 
geous avenues,  where  clouds  were  piled  on  gold- 
en clouds,  she  imagined,  far  away,  the  man- 
sions of  the  blessed.  These  emotions  glowing 
within  her,  gave  themselves  utterance  in  pray- 
ers earnest  and  ardent,  while  the  tears  of  irre- 
pressible feeling  filled  her  eyes  as  she  thought 
of  that  exalted  Being,  so  worthy  of  her  pure 
and  intensest  homage. 

The  father  of  Jane  was  delighted  with  all 
these  indications  of  a  marked  and  elevated  char- 
acter, and  did  all  in  his  power  to  stimulate  hex 
to  greater  zeal  in  her  lofty  studies  and  medita- 
tions. Jane  became  his  idol,  and  the  more  her 
imaginative  mind  became  imbued  with  the  spir- 
it of  romantic  aspirations,  the  better  was  he 
pleased.  The  ardor  of  her  zeal  enabled  her  to 
raooeed  in  every  thing  which  she  undertook. 


YOUTH.  39 

Jane  learns  to  engrave.  Her  mother  impatient  for  her  return. 

Invincible  industry  and  energy  were  united 
with  these  dreams.  She  was  ambitious  of 
knowing  every  thing ;  and  when  her  father 
placed  in  her  hands  the  ~burin,  wishing  to  teach 
her  to  engrave,  she  immediately  acquired  such 
skill  as  to  astonish  both  of  her  parents.  And 
she  afterward  passed  many  pleasant  hours  in 
engraving,  on  highly-polished  plates  of  brass, 
beautiful  emblems  of  flowers  as  tokens  of  affec- 
tion for  her  friends. 

The  mother  of  Jane,  with  far  better  judg- 
ment, endeavored  to  call  back  her  daughter 
from  that  unreal  world  in  which  she  loved  to 
dwell,  and  to  interest  her  in  the  practical  du- 
ties of  life.  She  began  to  be  impatient  for  her 
return  home,  that  she  might  introduce  her  to 
those  household  employments,  the  knowledge  of 
which  is  of  such  unspeakable  importance  to  ev- 
ery lady.  In  this  she  was  far  from  being  un- 
successful ;  for  while  Jane  continued  to  dream 
in  accordance  with  the  encouragement  of  her 
father,  she  also  cordially  recognized  the  good 
sense  of  her  mother's  counsels,  and  held  herself 
ever  in  readiness  to  co-operate  with  her  in  all 
her  plans. 

A  little  incident  which  took  place  at  this 
time  strikingly  illustrates  the  reflective  matu- 


(0  MADAME  ROLAND. 

Fhe  *Wt  to  M«d>me  D»  BoUmorei.  Remaik*  of  (errant* 

rity  which  her  character  had  already  acquired. 
Before  the  French  Revolution,  the  haughty  de- 
meanor of  the  nobility  of  France  assumed  such 
in  aspect  as  an  American,  at  the  present  day, 
can  but  feebly  conceive.  One  morning,  the 
grandmother  of  Jane,  a  woman  of  dignity  and 
cultivated  mind,  took  her  to  the  house  of  Ma- 
dame De  Boismorel,  a  lady  of  noble  rank,  whose 
children  she  had  partly  educated.  It  was  a 
great  event,  and  Jane  was  dressed  with  the  ut- 
most care  to  visit  the  aristocratic  mansion. 
The  aspiring  girl,  with  no  disposition  to  come 
down  to  the  level  of  those  beneath  her,  and  with 
still  less  willingness  to  do  homage  to  those  above 
her,  was  entirely  unconscious  of  the  mortifying 
condescension  with  which  she  was  to  be  receiv- 
ed. The  porter  at  the  door  saluted  Madame 
Phlippon  with  politeness,  and  all  the  servants 
whom  she  met  in  the  hall  addressed  her  with 
civility.  She  replied  to  each  with  courtesy  and 
with  dignity.  The  grandmother  was  proud  of 
her  grand-daughter,  and  the  servants  paid  the 
young  lady  many  compliments.  The  instinct 
ive  pride  of  Jane  took  instant  alarm.  She  felt 
.that  servants  had  no  right  to  presume  to  pay 
her  compliments — that  they  were  thus  assum- 
ing that  she-was  upon  their  level.  Alas!  for 


YOUTH  43 

Appearance  of  Madame  Do  Boismorel.        Her  reception  of  the  Tiaitora. 

poor  human  nature.  All  love  to  ascend  Few 
are  willing  to  favor  equality  by  stepping  down. 
A  tall  footman  announced  them  at  the  door  of 
the  magnificent  saloon  All  the  furnishing  and 
arrangements  of  this  aristocratic  apartment 
were  calculated  to  dazzle  the  eye  and  bewilder 
the  mind  of  one  unaccustomed  to  such  splen 
dor.  Madame  De  Boismorel,  dressed  with  the 
most  ostentatious  display  of  wealth,  was  seated 
upon  an  ottoman,  in  stately  dignity,  employing 
her  fingers  with  fancy  needle- work.  Her  face 
was  thickly  covered  with  rouge,  and,  as  hei 
guests  were  announced,  she  raised  her  eyes 
from  her  embroidery,  and  fixing  a  cold  and  un- 
feeling glance  upon  them,  without  rising  to  re- 
ceive them,  or  even  making  the  slightest  in- 
clination of  her  body,  in  a  very  patronizing  and 
condescending  tone  said  to  the  grandmother, 
"  Ah  !  Miss  Phlippon,  good  morning  to  you  !" 
Jane,  who  was  far  from  pleased  with  her  re- 
ception in  the  hall,  was  exceedingly  displeased 
with  her  reception  in  the  saloon.  The  pride  of 
the  Roman  maiden  rose  in  her  bosom,  and  in- 
dignantly she  exclaimed  to  herself,  "  So  my 
grandmother  is  called  Miss  in  this  house !" 
"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,"  continued  Ma- 
De  Boismorel ;  "  and  who  is  this  fine 


MADAME  ROLAND. 


MMUma  De  Bolimorol'i  Tolubility  .  Jane'i  dignified  rejoinder* 

girl  ?  your  grand-daughter,  I  suppose  ?  She 
will  make  a  very  pretty  woman.  Come  here, 
my  dear.  Ah!  I  see  she  is  a  little  bashful. 
How  old  is  your  grand-daughter,  Miss  Phlip- 
pon?  Her  complexion  is  rather  brown,  to  be 
sure,  but  her  skin  is  clear,  and  will  grow  fairer 
in  a  few  years.  She  is  quite  a  woman  already." 

Thus  she  rattled  on  for  some  time,  waiting 
for  no  answers.  At  length,  turning  again  to 
Jane,  who  had  hardly  ventured  to  raise  her 
eyes  from  the  floor,  she  said,  "  What  a  beauti- 
ful hand  you  have  got.  That  hand  must  be  a 
lucky  one.  Did  you  ever  venture  in  a  lottery 
my  dear  ?" 

"Never,  madam,"  replied  Jane,  promptly 
*'  I  am  not  fond  of  gaming." 

"  What  an  admirable  voice  !"  exclaimed  the 
lady.  "  So  sweet  and  yet  so  full-toned  !  But 
how  grave  she  is  !  Pray,  my  dear,  are  you  not 
a  little  of  a  devotee  ?" 

"I  know  my  duty  to  God,"  replied  Jane, 
"  and  I  endeavor  to  fulfill  it." 

"  That's  a  good  girl,"  the  noble  lady  rejoined 
"You  wish  to  take  the  veil,  do  you  not?" 

"I  do  not  know  what  may  be  my  destina- 
tion, neither  am  I  at  present  anxious  to  conjec- 
ture it  " 


YOUTH.  45 

toe's  Indication.  She  vidU  VenafllM 

"  How  very  sententious !"  Madame  De  Bois- 
rnorel  replied.  "Your  grand-daughter  readg  a 
great  deal,  does  she  not,  Miss  Phlippon  ?" 

"  Yes,  madam,  reading  is  her  greatest  do- 
light." 

"  Ay,  ay,"  rejoined  the  lady ;  "  I  see  how  it 
is.  But  have  a  care  that  she  does  not  turn  au- 
thor. That  would  be  a  pity  indeed." 

During  this  conversation  the  cheeks  of  Jane 
were  flushed  with  wounded  pride,  and  her  heart 
throbbed  most  violently.  She  felt  indignant 
and  degraded,  and  was  exceedingly  impatient  to 
escape  from  the  humiliating  visit.  Conscious 
that  she  was,  in  spirit,  in  no  respect  inferior  to 
the  maidens  of  Greece  and  Rome  who  had  so 
engrossed  her  admiration,  she  as  instinctively 
recoiled  from  the  arrogance  of  the  haughty  oo- 
oupant  of  the  parlor  as  she  had  repelled  the 
affected  equality  of  the  servants  in  the  hall. 

A  short  time  after  this  she  was  taken  to  pass 
a  week  at  the  luxurious  abodes  of  Maria  An- 
toinette, Versailles  was  in  itself  a  city  of  pal- 
aces  and  of  courtiers,  where  all  that  could  daz- 
lie  the  eye  in  regal  pomp  and  princely  volup- 
tuousness was  concentered.  Most  girls  of  her 
age  would  have  been  enchanted  and  bewildered 
by  this  display  of  royal  grandeur.  Jane  wan 


46  MADAME  ROLAND. 

Jane's  disgust  at  palace  life.  She  resorts  to  the  gardens. 

permitted  to  witness,  and  partially  to  share,  all 
the  pomp  of  luxuriously-spread  tables,  and  pres- 
entations, and  court  balls,  and  illuminations, 
and  the  gilded  equipages  of  embassadors  and 
princes.  But  this  maiden,  just  emerging  from 
the  period  of  childhood  and  the  seclusion  of  the 
cloister,  undazzled  by  all  this  brilliance,  looked 
sadly  on  the  scene  with  the  condemning  eye  of 
a  philosopher.  The  servility  of  the  courtiers  ex- 
cited her  contempt.  She  contrasted  the  bound- 
less profusion  and  extravagance  which  filled 
these  palaces  with  the  absence  of  comfort  in 
the  dwellings  of  the  over-taxed  poor,  and  pon- 
dered deeply  the  value  of  that  regal  despotism, 
which  starved  the  millions  to  pander  to  the  dis- 
solute indulgence  of  the  few.  Her  personal 
pride  was  also  severely  stung  by  perceiving 
that  her  own  attractions,  mental  and  physical, 
were  entirely  overlooked  by  the  crowds  which 
were  bowing  before  the  shrines  of  rank  and  pow- 
er. She  soon  became  weary  of  the  painful  spec- 
tacle. Disgusted  with  the  frivolity  of  the  liv- 
ing, she  sought  solace  for  her  wounded  feelings 
in  companionship  with  the  illustrious  dead. 
She  chose  the  gardens  for  her  resort,  and,  lin- 
gering around  the  statues  which  embellished 
these  scenes  of  almost  fairy  enchantment,  sur- 


YOUTH.  4? 

meditation*.  Characteristic  remark 

rendered  herself  to  the  luxury  of  those  oft-in- 
dulged dreams,  which  lured  her  thoughts  away 
from  the  trivialities  around  her  to  heroic  char 
acter  and  brilliant  exploits. 

"How  do  you  enjoy  your  visit,  my  daugh- 
ter ?"  inquired  her  mother. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  when  it  is  ended,"  was  the 
characteristic  reply,  "  else,  in  a  few  more  days, 
I  shall  so  detest  all  the  persons  I  see  that  I  shall 
not  know  what  to  do  with  my  hatred." 

"  Why,  what  harm  have  these  persons  done 
you,  my  child  ?" 

"  They  make  me  feel  injustice  and  look  upon 
absurdity,"  replied  this  philosopher  of  thirteen 

Thus  early  did  she  commence  her  political 
meditations,  and  here  were  planted  the  germs 
of  that  enthusiasm  which  subsequently  nerved 
her  to  such  exertions  for  the  disenthralment  of 
the  people,  and  the  establishment  of  republican 
power  upon  the  ruin  of  the  throne  of  the  Bcur- 
bons.  She  thought  of  the  ancient  republics, 
eacircled  by  a  halo  of  visionary  glory,  and  of 
trie  heroes  and  heroines  who  had  been  the  mar* 
tyrs  of  liberty ;  or,  to  use  her  own  energetic 
•language,  "I.  sighed  at  the  recollection  of  Ath- 
ens, where  I  could  have  enjoyed  the  fine  arts 
without  being  annoyed  at  the  sight  of  despot- 


48  MADAME   ROLAND. 


taM.  ratuM  hoM.  Bar  manner 

inn.  I  was  out  of  all  patience  at  being  a 
French-woman.  Enchanted  with  the  golden 
period  of  the  Grecian  republic,  I  passed  over 
the  storms  by  which  it  had  been  agitated.  I 
forgot  the  exile  of  Aristides,  the  death  of  800- 
rates,  and  the  condemnation  of  Phooion.  I  lit- 
tle thought  that  Heaven  reserved  me  to  be  a 
witness  of  similar  errors,  to  profess  the  same 
principles,  and  to  participate  in  the  glory  of  the 
same  persecutions." 

Soon  after  Jane  had  entered  her  fourteenth 
year,  she  left  her  grandmother's  and  returned 
to  her  parental  home.  Her  father,  though  far 
from  opulence,  was  equally  removed  from  pov- 
erty, and,  without  difficulty,  provided  his  fam- 
ily with  a  frugal  competence.  Jane  now  pur- 
sued her  studies  and  her  limitless  reading  with 
unabated  ardor.  Her  mind,  demanding  reality 
and  truth  as  basis  for  thought,  in  the  develop- 
ments of  character  as  revealed  in  biography,  in 
the  rise  and  fall  of  empires  as  portrayed  in  his- 
tory, in  the  facts  of  science,  and  in  the  princi- 
ples of  mental  and  physical  philosophy,  four  d 
its  congenial  aliment.  She  accustomed  herself 
to  read  with  her  pen  in  her  hand,  taking  copi- 
ous abstracts  of  facts  and  sentiments  which  par- 
ticularly interested  her  Not  having  a  large 


YOUTH.  49 

i  devotes  herself  to  domestic  duties.  She  goes  to  market 


library  of  her  own,  many  of  the  books  which 
she  read  were  borrowed,  and  she  carefully  ex- 
tracted from  them  and  treasured  in  her  com- 
mon-place book  those  passages  which  particu- 
larly  interested  her,  that  she  might  read  them 
again  and  again.  With  these  abstracts  and  ex- 
tracts there  were  freely  intermingled  ber  own 
reflections,  and  thus  all  that  she  read  was  care- 
fully stored  up  in  her  own  mind  and  became  a 
portion  of  her  own  intellectual  being. 

Jane's  mother,  conscious  of  the  importance 
to  her  child  of  a  knowledge  of  domestic  duties, 
took  her  to  the  market  to  obtain  meat  and  veg- 
etables, and  occasionally  placed  upon  her  the 
responsibility  of  most  of  the  family  purchases ; 
and  yet  the  unaffected,  queenly  dignity  with 
which  the  imaginative  girl  yielded  herself  to 
these  most  useful  yet  prosaic  avocations  was 
such,  that  when  she  entered  the  market,  the 
fruit-women  hastened  to  serve  her  before  the 
other  customers.  The  first  comers,  instead  of 
being  offended  by  this  neglect,  stepped  aside, 
struck  by  those  indescribable  indications  of  su- 
periority which  ever  gave  her  such  a  resistless 
influence  over  other  minds.  It  is  quite  remark- 
able that  Jane,  apparently,  never  turned  with 
repugnance  from  these  humble  avocations  o/ 

18—4 


50  MADAME   ROLAND. 

Jiuie'i  aptitude  for  domestic  duties.  From  the  itudy  to  the  kitchen 

dornestio  life.  It  speaks  most  highly  in  behalf 
of  the  intelligence  and  sound  judgment  of  hei 
mother,  that  she  was  enabled  thus  successfully 
to  allure  her  daughter  from  her  proud  imagin- 
ings and  her  realms  of  romance  to  those  unat- 
tractive practical  duties  which  our  daily  neces- 
sities demand.  At  one  hour,  this  ardent  and 
impassioned  maiden  might  have  been  seen  in 
her  little  chamber  absorbed  in  studies  of  deepest 
research.  The  highest  themes  which  can  ele- 
vate or  engross  the  mind  of  man  claimed  her 
profound  and  delighted  reveries.  The  next  hour 
she  might  be  seen  in  the  kitchen,  under  the 
guidance  of  her  placid  and  pious  mother,  re- 
ceiving from  her  judicious  lips  lessons  upon  fru- 
gality, and  industry,  and  economy.  The  white 
apron  was  bound  around  her  waist,  and  hei 
hands,  which,  but  a  few  moments  before,  were 
busy  with  the  circles  of  the  celestial  globe,  were 
now  occupied  in  preparing  vegetables  for  din- 
ner. There  was  thus  united  in  the  charaotei 
of  Jane  the  appreciation  of  all  that  is  beautiful, 
ohivalrio,  and  sublime  in  the  world  of  fact  and 
the  world  of  imagination,  and  also  domestic 
ikiL  and  practical  common  sense..  She  was 
thus  prepared  to  fascinate  by  the  graces  and  el- 
egances of  ar refined  and  polished  mini,  and  tr 


YOUTH.  51 

Domestic  education. 


create  for  herself,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  vicis- 
situdes of  life,  a  region  of  loveliness  in  which 
her  spirit  could  ever  dwell ;  and,  at  the  same 
time,  she  possessed  that  sagacity  and  tact,  and 
those  habits  of  usefulness,  which  prepared  her 
to  meet  calmly  all  the  changes  of  fortune,  and 
over  them  all  to  triumph.  With  that  self-ap- 
preciation, the  expression  of  which,  with  her, 
was  frankness  rather  than  vanity,  she  subse- 
quently writes,  "  This  mixture  of  serious  stud- 
ies, agreeable  relaxations,  and  domestic  cares, 
was  rendered  pleasant  by  my  mother's  good 
management,  and  fitted  me  for  every  thing.  It 
seemed  to  forebode  the  vicissitudes  of  future 
Jbfe,  and  enabled  me  to  bear  them.  In  every 
place  I  am  at  home.  I  can  prepare  my  own 
dinner  with  as  much  address  as  Philopoemen 
cut  wood ;  but  no  one  seeing  me  thus  engaged 
would  think  it  an  office  in  which  I  ought  to  be 
employed." 

Jane  was  thus  prepared  by  Providence  for 
that  career  which  she  rendered  so  illustrious 
through  her  talents  and  her  sufferings.  At  this 
early  period  there  were  struggling  in  her  bosom 
those  very  emotions  which  soon  after  agitated 
every  mind  in  France,  and  which  overthrew  in 
chaotic  ruin  both  the  altar  and  the  throne. 


62  MADAME   ROLAMD 

DtMotatotfTM  of  the  CathoUe  clergy.  N>w 

The  dissolute  lives  of  many  of  the  Catholic 
clergy,  and  their  indolence  and  luxury,  began 
to  alarm  her  faith.  The  unceasing  denuncia- 
tions of  her  father  gave  additional  impulse  to 
every  such  suggestion.  She  could  not  but  see 
that  the  pride  and  power  of  the  state  were  sus- 
tained by  the  superstitious  terrors  wielded  by 
the  Church.  She  could  not  be  blind  to  the 
trickery  by  which  money  was  wrested  from  tor- 
tured consciences,  and  from  ignorance,  imbecil- 
ity, and  dotage.  She  could  not  but  admire  her 
mother's  placid  piety,  neither  could  she  conceal 
from  herself  that  her  faith  was  feeling,  her  prin- 
ciples sentiments.  Deeply  as  her  own  feelings 
had  been  impressed  in  the  convent,  and  much 
as  she  loved  the  gentle  sisters  there,  she  sought 
in  vain  for  a  foundation  for  the  gigantic  fabric 
of  spiritual  dominion  towering  above  her.  She 
looked  upon  the  gorgeous  pomp  of  papal  wor- 
ship, with  its  gormandizing  pastors  and  its  starv 
ing  docks,  with  its  pageants  to  excite  the  sense 
and  to  paralyze  the  mind,  with  its  friars  ana 
monks  loitering  in  sloth  and  uselessness,  ana 
often  in  the  grossest  dissipation,  and  her  reason 
gradually  began  to  condemn  it  as  a  gigantic 
superstition  for  the  enthrallment  of  mankind. 
Still,  the  influence  of  Christian  sentiments,  like 


ITouTH.  53 

iMotance  of  tbe  aristocracy.  Jane's  indignation. 

A  guardian  angel,  over  hovered  around  her,  and 
when  her  bewildered  mind  was  groping  amid 
the  labyrinths  of  unbelief,  her  heart  still  clung 
to  all  that  is  pure  in  Christian  morals,  and  to 
all  that  is  consolatory  in  the  hopes  of  immor- 
tality ;  and  even  when  benighted  in  the  most 
painful  atheistic  doubts,  conscience  became  her 
deity  ;  its  voice  she  most  reverently  obeyed. 

She  turned  from  the  Church  to  the  state 
She  saw  the  sons  and  the  daughters  of  aristo- 
cratic pride,  glittering  in  gilded  chariots,  and 
surrounded  by  insolent  menials,  sweep  by  her, 
through  the  Elysian  Fields,  while  she  trod  th' 
lusty  pathway.  Her  proud  spirit  revolted,  more 
and  more,  at  the  apparent  injustice.  She  had 
studied  the  organization  of  society.  She  was 
familiar  with  the  modes  of  popular  oppression 
She  understood  the  operation  of  that  system  of 
taxes,  so  ingeniously  devised  to  sink  the  mass 
of  the  people  in  poverty  and  degradation,  that 
princes  and  nobles  might  revel  in  voluptuous 
splendor.  Indignation  nerved  her  spirit  as  she 
reflected  upon  the  usurpation  thus  ostentatious- 
ly displayed.  The  seclusion  in  which  she  lived 
encouraged  deep  musings  upon  these  vast  ine- 
qualities of  life.  Piety  had  not  taught  her  sub- 
mission. Philosophy  had  not  yet  taught  hei 


54  MADAME   ROLAND. 

New  acquaintance.          Jane'i  contempt  for  their  Ignorance  and  prldft 

the  impossibility  of  adjusting  these  allotments 
of  our  earthly  state,  so  as  to  distribute  the  gifts 
of  fortune  in  accordance  with  merit.  Little, 
however,  did  the  proud  grandees  imagine,  as  in 
courtly  splendor  they  swept  by  the  plebeian 
maiden,  enveloping  her  in  the  dust  of  their  char- 
iots, that  her  voice  would  yet  aid  to  upheave 
their  castles  from  their  foundations,  and  whelm 
the  monarchy  and  the  aristocracy  of  France  in 
one  common  ruin. 

At  this  time  circumstances  brought  her  in 
contact  with  several  ladies  connected  with  no- 
ble families.  The  ignorance  of  these  ladies, 
their  pride,  their  arrogance,  excited  in  Jane's 
mind  deep  contempt.  She  could  not  but  feel 
her  own  immeasurable  superiority  over  them, 
and  yet  she  perceived  with  indignation  that  the 
accident  of  birth  invested  them  with  a  factitious 
dignity,  which  enabled  them  to  look  down  upon 
her  with  condescension.  A  lady  of  noble  birth, 
who  had  lost  fortune  and  friends  through  the 
fraud  and  dissipation  of  those  connected  with 
her,  came  to  board  for  a  short  time  in  her  fa- 
ther's family.  This  lady  was  forty  years  of 
age,  insufferably  proud  of  her  pedigree,  and  in 
her  manners  stiff  and  repulsive.  She  was  ex- 
ceedingly illiterate  and  uninformed,  being  un 


YOUTH.  55 

A  noble  but  illiterate  lady.  Deference  pali  to  has, 

able  to  write  a  line  with  correctness,  and  hav- 
ing no  knowledge  beyond  that  which  may  be 
picked  up  in  the  ball-room  and  the  theater. 
Thare  was  nothing  in  her  character  to  win  es- 
teem. She  was  trying,  by  a  law-suit,  to  recov- 
er a  portion  of  her  lost  fortune.  Jane  wrote  pe- 
titions for  her,  and  letters,  and  sometimes  went 
with  her  to  make  interest  with  persons  whose 
influence  would  be  important.  She  perceived 
that,  notwithstanding  her  deficiency  in  every 
personal  quality  to  inspire  esteem  or  love,  she 
was  treated,  in  consequence  of  her  birth,  with 
the  most  marked  deference.  Whenever  she 
mentioned  the  names  of  her  high-born  ancestry 
— and  those  names  were  ever  upon  her  lips — 
she  was  listened  to  with  the  greatest  respect. 
Jane  contrasted  the  reception  which  this  illiter- 
ate descendant  of  nobility  enjoyed  with  the  re- 
ception which  her  grandmother  encountered  in 
the  visit  to  Madame  De  Boismorel,  and  it  ap- 
peared to  her  that  the  world  was  exceedingly 
unjust,  and  that  the  institutions  of  society  were 
highly  absurd.  Thus  was  her  mind  training 
for  activity  in  the  arena  of  revolution.  She 
was  pondering  deeply  all  the  abuses  of  society. 
She  had  become  enamored  of  the  republican  lib- 
erty of  antiquity  She  was  ready  to  embrace 


56  MADAME   ROLAND. 


Habits  of  reflection. 


with  enthusiasm  any  hopes  of  change.  All  th« 
games  and  amusements  of  girlhood  appeared  to 
her  frivolous,  as,  day  after  day,  her  whole  men- 
tal powers  were  engrossed  by  these  profound 
contemplations,  and  by  aspirations  for  the  ele- 
ation  of  herself  and  of  mankind. 


1770.]  MAIDENHOOD.  67 

Pint  emotion*  of  lore.  A  yotthfol  artist 


CHAPTER  III. 
MAIDENHOOD. 

A  SOUL  so  active,  so  imaginative,  and  so 
full  of  feeling  as  that  of  Jane,  could  not 
long  slumber  unconscious  of  the  emotion  of  love. 
In  the  unaffected  and  touching  narrative  which 
she  gives  of  her  own  character,  in  the  Journal 
which  she  subsequently  wrote  in  the  gloom  of 
a  prison,  she  alludes  to  the  first  rising  of  that 
mysterious  passion  in  her  bosom.  With  that 
frankness  which  ever  marked  her  character, 
she  describes  the  strange  fluttering  of  her  heart, 
the  embarrassment,  the  attraction,  and  the  in- 
stinctive diffidence  she  experienced  when  in  the 
presence  of  a  young  man  who  had,  all  uncon- 
sciously, interested  her  affections.  It  seerm 
that  there  was  a  youthful  painter  named  Tabo- 
ral,  of  pale,  and  pensive,  and  intellectual  coun- 
tenance— an  artist  with  soul-inspired  enthusi- 
asm beaming  from  his  eye — who  occasionally 
called  upon  her  father.  Jane  had  just  been 
reading  the  Heloise  of  Rousseau,  that  gushing 
fount*'"  of  sentimentality.  Her  young  heart 


58  J 

t  ttukltty  Muter  of  initon 


took  fire.  His  features  mingled  insensibly  in 
her  dreamings  and  her  visions,  and  dwelt,  a  wel- 
oume  guest,  in  her  oastles  in  the  air.  The  dif- 
fident young  man,  with  all  the  sensitiveness  of 
genius,  could  not  speak  to  the  daughter,  of 
whose  accomplishments  the  father  was  so  just- 
ly proud,  without  blushing  like  a  girl.  When 
Jane  heard  him  in  the  shop,  she  always  con- 
trived to  make  some  errand  to  go  in.  There 
was  a  pencil  or  something  else  to  be  sought  for. 
But  the  moment  she  was  in  the  presence  of 
Taboral,  instinctive  embarrassment  drove  her 
away,  and  she  retired  more  rapidly  than  she  en- 
tered, and  with  a  palpitating  heart  ran  to  hide 
herself  in  her  little  chamber. 

This  emotion,  however,  was  fleeting  and  tran- 
sient, and  soon  forgotten.  Indeed,  highly  im- 
aginative as  was  Jane,  her  imagination  was 
vigorous  and  intellectual,  and  her  tastes  led  her 
far  away  from  those  enervating  love-dreams  in 
which  a  weaker  mind  would  have  indulged.  A 
young  lady  so  fascinating  in  mind  and  person 
could  not  but  attract  much  attention.  Many 
suitors  began  to  appear,  one  after  another,  but 
she  manifested  no  interest  in  any  of  them.  The 
customs  of  society  in  France  were  such  at  that 
time,  that  it  was  difficult  for  any  one  who 


1770.1  MAIDENHOOD.  59 

fane  as  a  letter  writer.    Her  MntbnenU  adopted  by  the  French  ministry 

sought  the  hand  of  Jane  to  obtain  an  introduc- 
tion to  her.  Consequently,  the  expedient  was 
usually  adopted  of  writing  first  to  her  parents. 
These  letters  were  always  immediately  shown 
to  Jane.  She  judged  of  the  character  of  the 
writer  by  the  character  of  the  epistles.  Her 
father:  knowing  her  intellectual  superiority, 
looked  to  her  as  his  secretary  to  reply  to  all 
these  letters.  She  consequently  wrote  the  an- 
swers, which  her  father  carefully  copied,  and 
sent  in  his  own  name.  She  was  often  amused 
with  the  gravity  with  which  she,  as  the  father 
of  herself,  with  parental  prudence  discussed  her 
own  interests.  In  subsequent  years  she  wrote 
to  kings  and  to  cabinets  in  the  name  of  her  hus- 
band ;  and  the  sentiments  which  flowed  from 
her  pen,  adopted  by  the  ministry  of  France  as 
their  own,  guided  the  councils  of  nations. 

Her  father,  regarding  commerce  as  the  source 
of  wealth,  and  wealth  as  the  source  of  power 
and  dignity,  was  very  anxious  that  his  daughter 
should  accept  some  of  the  lucrative  offers  she 
^vas  receiving  from  young  men  of  the  family 
acquaintance  who  were  engaged  in  trade.  But 
Jane  h  d  no  such  thought.  Her  proud  spirit 
revolted  from  such  a  connection.  From  her 
sublimated  position  among  the  ancient  heroes. 


60  MADAME   ROLAND.  [177U 

A  rich  meat  merchant  propose*  for  Jane's  hand. 

and  her  ambitious  aspirings  to  dwell  in  the  loft- 
iest regions  of  intellect,  she  could  not  think  of 
tllying  her  soul  with  those  whose  energies  wero 
expended  in  buying  and  selling;  and  she  de- 
clared that  she  would  have  no  husband  but  one 
with  whom  she  could  cherish  congenial  sym- 
pathies. 

At  one  time  a  rich  meat  merchant  of  the 
neighborhood  solicited  her  hand.  Her  father, 
allured  by  his  wealth,  was  very  anxious  that 
his  daughter  should  accept  the  offer.  In  reply 
to  his  urgency  Jane  firmly  replied, 

"  I  can  not,  dear  father,  descend  from  my  no 
ble  imaginings.  What  I  want  in  a  husband  is 
a  soul,  not  a  fortune.  I  will  die  single  rather 
than  prostitute  my  own  mind  in  a  union  with 
a  being  with  whom  I  have  no  sympathies. 
Brought  up  from  my  infancy  in  connection  with 
the  great  men  of  all  ages — familiar  with  lofty 
ideas  and  illustrious  examples — have  I  lived 
with  Plato,  with  all  the  philosophers,  all  the 
poets,  all  the  politicians  of  antiquity,  merely  to 
unite  myself  wjth  a  shop-keeper,  who  \i  ill  nei- 
ther appreciate  nor  feel  any  thing  as  I  do? 
Why  have  you  suffered  me,  father,  to  contract 
these  intellectual  habits  and  tastes,  if  you  wish 
me  to  form  such  an  alliance?  I  know  not 


1770.1  MAI  DRW  HOOD.  61 


CooTersaUou  between  Jane  and  ht>r  tather  about  matrimony 


whom  I  may  marry ;  but  it  must  be  one  who 
ean  share  my  thoughts  and  sympathize  with  my 
pursuits." 

"  But,  my  daughter,  there  are  many  men  of 
business  who  have  extensive  information  and 
polished  manners." 

"  That  may  be,"  Jane  answered,  "  but  they 
do  not  possess  the  kind  of  information,  and  the 
character  of  mind,  and  the  intellectual  tastes 
which  I  wish  any  one  who  is  my  husband  to 
possess." 

"  Do  you  not  suppose,"  rejoined  her  father, 

"  that  Mr. and  his  wife  are  happy  ?  He 

has  just  retired  from  business  with  an  ample 
fortune.  They  have  a  beautiful  house,  and  re- 
ceive the  best  of  company." 

"  I  arn  no  judge,"  was  the  reply,  "  of  other 
people's  happiness.  But  my  own  heart  is  not 
fixed  on  riches.  I  conceive  that  the  strictest 
union  of  affection  is  requisite  to  conjugal  felici- 
ty. I  can  not  connect  myself  with  any  man 
whose  tastes  and  sympathies  are  not  in  accord- 
ance with  my  own.  My  husband  must  be  my 
•uperior.  Since  both  nature  and  the  laws  give 
him  the  pre-eminence,  I  should  be  ashamed  if 
he  did  not  really  deserve  it." 

"I  suppose,  then,  you  want  a  counselor  (at 


62  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1771. 

Views  of  Jane  in  regard  to  marriage. 

your  husband.  But  ladies  are  seldom  happy 
with  these  learned  gentlemen.  They  have  a 
great  deal  of  pride,  and  very  little  money." 

"Father,"  Jane  earnestly  replied,  "I  care  not 
about  the  profession.  I  wish  only  to  marry  a 
man  whom  I  can  love." 

"  But  you  persist  in  thinking  such  a  man  will 
never  be  found  in  trade.  You  will  find  it, 
however,  a  very  pleasant  thing  to  sit  at  ease  in 
your  own  parlor  while  your  husband  is  accu- 
mulating a  fortune.  Now  there  is  Madame 
Dargens :  she  understands  diamonds  as  well  as 
nor  husband.  She  can  make  good  bargains  in 
his  absence,  and  could  carry  on  all  his  business 
perfectly  well  if  she  were  left  a  widow.  You 
are  intelligent.  You  perfectly  understand  that 
branch  of  business  since  you  studied  the  treat- 
ise on  precious  stones.  You  might  do  what- 
ever you  please.  You  would  have  led  a  very 
happy  life  if  you  could  but  have  fancied  De- 
lorme,  Dabrieul,  or — " 

"  Father,"  earnestly  exclaimed  Jane,  "  I  ha?e 
discovered  that  the  only  way  to  make  a  fortune 
in  trade  is  by  selling  dear  that  which  has  been 
bought  cheap;  by  overcharging  the  customer, 
and  beating  down  the  poor  workman.  I  could 
never  descend  tc  such  practices;  nor  could  ) 


1771.]  MAIDENHOOD.  63 

Jane's  objections  to  a  tradesman.  She  U  Immorabla 

respect  a  man  who  made  them  his  occupation 
from  morning  till  night." 

"  Do  you  then  suppose  that  there  are  no  hon- 
est tradesmen  ?" 

"I  presume  that  there  are,"  was  the  reply; 
*{  but  the  number  is  not  large ;  and  among 
them  I  am  not  likely  to  find  a  husband  who 
will  sympathize  with  me." 

"  And  what  will  you  do  if  you  do  not  find 
the  idol  of  your  imagination  ?" 

"  I  will  live  single." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  not  find  that  as  pleasant 
as  you  imagine.  You  may  think  that  there  is 
time  enough  yet.  But  weariness  will  come  at 
last.  The  crowd  of  lovers  will  soon  pass  away 
and  you  know  the  fable." 

"  Well,  then,  by  meriting  happiness,  I  wiL 
take  revenge  upon  the  injustice  which  would 
deprive  me  of  it." 

"  Oh !  now  you  are  in  the  clouds  again,  my 
ohild.  It  is  very  pleasant  to  soar  to  such  a 
leight,  but  it  is  not  easy  to  keep  the  elevation." 

The  judicious  mother  of  Jane,  anxious  to  see 
her  daughter  settled  in  life,  endeavored  to  form 
a  match  for  her  with  a  young  physician.  Much 
maneuvering  was  necessary  to  bring  about  the 
desired  result.  The  young  practitioner  wa* 


64  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1771 

The  young  physician  M  »  lover.  Carton*  taterriew 

nothing  loth  to  lend  his  aid.  The  pecuniary 
arrangements  were  all  made,  and  the  bargain 
completed,  before  Jane  knew  any  thing  of  the 
matter.  The  mother  and  daughter  went  out 
one  morning  to  make  a  call  upon  a  friend,  at 
whose  house  the  prospective  husband  of  Jane, 
by  previous  appointment,  was  accidentally  to 
be.  It  was  a  curious  interview.  The  friends 
so  overacted  their  part,  that  Jane  immediately 
saw  through  the  plot.  Her  mother  was  pen- 
sive and  anxious.  Her  friends  were  voluble, 
and  prodigal  of  sly  intimations.  The  young 
gentleman  was  very  lavish  of  his  powers  of 
pleasing,  loaded  Jane  with  flippant  compliments, 
devoured  confectionary  with  high  relish,  and 
chattered  most  flippantly  in  the  most  approved 
style  of  fashionable  inanition.  The  high-spir- 
ited girl  had  no  idea  of  being  thus  disposed  of 
in  the  matrimonial  bazar.  The  profession  of 
the  doctor  was  pleasing  to  her,  as  it  promised 
an  enlightened  mind,  and  she  was  willing  to 
consent  to  make  his  acquaintance.  Her  moth- 
er urged  her  to  decide  at  once. 

"  What,  mother !"  she  exclaimed,  "  wculd 
you  have  me  take  one  for  ray  husband  upon  the 
•trength  of  a  single  interview  ?" 

"  It  is  not  exactly  so,"  she  replied.     "  Thi» 


I772.J  MAIDENHOOD.  65 

The  physician  taken  on  trial  The  connection  broken  off 

young  gentleman's  intimacy  with  our  friends 
enables  us  to  judge  of  his  conduct  and  way  of 
life.  We  know  his  disposition.  These  are  the 
main  points.  You  have  attained  the  proper  age 
to  be  settled  in  the  world.  You  have  refused 
many  offers  from  tradesmen,  and  it  is  from  that 
class  alone  that  you  are  likely  to  receive  ad- 
dresses. You  seem  fully  resolved  never  to  mar- 
ry a  man  in  business.  You  may  never  have 
another  such  offer.  The  present  match  is  very 
eligible  in  every  external  point  of  view.  Be- 
ware how  you  reject  it  too  lightly." 

Jane,  thus  urged,  consented  to  .see  the  young 
physician  at  her  father's  house,  that  she  might 
become  acquainted  with  him.  She,  however, 
determined  that  no  earthly  power  should  induce 
her  to  marry  him,  unless  she  found  in  him  a 
congenial  spirit.  Fortunately,  she  was  saved 
all  further  trouble  in  the  matter  by  a  dispute 
which  arose  between  her  lover  and  her  father 
respecting  the  pecuniary  arrangements,  and 
which  broke  off  all  further  connection  between 
the  parties. 

Her  mother's  health  now  began  rapidly  to 
decline.  A  stroke  of  palsy  deprived  her  of  her 
accustomed  elasticity  of  spirits,  and,  secluding 

herself  from  society,  she  became  silent  and  «a<7 
18—5 


66  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1772 

LBneu  of  Jane's  mother.  The  )rveler 

In  view  of  approaching  death,  she  often  lament- 
ed that  she  could  not  see  her  daughter  well 
married  before  she  left  the  world.  An  offer 
which  Jane  received  from  a  very  honest,  in- 
dustrious,  and  thrifty  jeweler,  aroused  anew  a 
mother's  maternal  solicitude. 

"Why,"  she  exclaimed,  with  melancholy 
earnestness,  "  will  you  reject  this  y.Ming  man? 
He  has  an  amiable  disposition,  and  high  repu- 
tation for  integrity  and  sobriety.  He  is  already 
in  easy  circumstances,  and  is  in  a  fair  way  of 
soon  acquiring  a  brilliant  fortune.  He  knows 
that  you  have  a  superior  mind.  He  professes 
great  esteem  for  you,  and  will  be  proud  of  fol- 
lowing your  advice.  You  might  lead  him  in 
any  way  you  like." 

"  But,  my  dear  mother,  I  do  not  want  a  hus- 
band who  is  to  be  led.  He  would  be  too  cum- 
bersome a  child  for  me  to  take  care  of." 

"  Do  you  know  that  you  are  a  very  whimsi- 
cal girl,  my  child  ?  And  how  do  you  think  you 
would  like  a  husband  who  was  your  master  and 
tyrant?"  , 

"  I  certainly,"  Jane  replied,  "  should  not  like 
a  man  who  assumed  airs  of  authority,  for  thai 
would  only  provoke  me  to  resist.  But  I  am 
Bure  that  I  could  never  bve  a  husVand  vhora  b 


1772.]  MAIDENHOOD.  67 

Jane's  vie  wi  of  congeniality  between  man  ai  d  wife. 


was  necessary  for  me  to  govern.  I  should  be 
ashamed  of  my  own  power." 

"  I  understand  you,  Jane.  You  would  like 
to  have  a  man  think  himself  the  master,  while 
he  obeyed  you  in  every  particular." 

"  No,  mother,  it  is  not  that  either.  I  hate 
servitude ;  but  empire  would  only  embarrass 
me.  I  wish  to  gain  the  affections  of  a  man 
who  would  make  his  happiness  consist  in  con- 
tributing to  mine,  as  his  good  sense  and  regard 
for  me  should  dictate." 

"But,  my  daughter,  there  would  be  hardly 
such  a  thing  in  the  world  as  a  happy  couple,  if 
happiness  could  not  exist  without  that  perfect 
congeniality  of  taste  and  opinions  which  you 
imagine  to  be  so  necessary." 

"  I  do  not  know,  mother,  of  a  single  person 
whose  happiness  I  envy." 

"  Very  well ;  but  among  those  matches  which 
you  do  not  envy,  there  may  be  some  far  pref- 
erable to  remaining  always  single.  I  may  be 
called  out  of  the  world  sooner  than  you  imag- 
ine. Your  father  is  still  young.  I  can  not  tell 
you  all  the  disagreeat  le  things  my  fondness  for 
you  makes  me  fear.  I  should  be  indeed  happy, 
could  I  see  you  united  to  some  worthy  man  be- 
fore t  die." 


68  MADAME  ROLAM».  [1773 


Her  mother1 «  death. 


This  was  the  first  time  that  the  idea  of  hei 
mother's  death  ever  seriously  entered  the  mind 
of  Jane.  With  an  eager  gaze,  she  fixed  her  eye 
apon  her  pals  and  wasted  cheek  and  her  ema- 
oiate  frame,  and  the  dreadful  truth,  with  the 
suddenness  of  a  revelation,  burst  upon  her. 
Her  whole  frame  shook  with  emotion,  and  she 
burst  into  a  flood  of  tears.  Her  mother,  much 
moved,  tried  to  console  her. 

"  Do  not  be  alarmed,  my  dear  child,"  said 
she,  tenderly.  "  I  am  not  dangerously  ill.  But 
in  forming  our  plans,  we  should  take  into  con- 
sideration all  chances.  A  worthy  man  offers 
you  his  hand.  You  have  now  attained  your 
twentieth  year.  You  can  not  expect  as  many 
suitors  as  you  have  had  for  the  last  five  years. 
I  may  be  suddenly  taken  from  you.  Do  not, 
then,  reject  a  husband  who,  it  is  true,  has  not 
all  the  refinement  you  could  desire,  but  who  will 
love  you,  and  with  whom  you  can  be  happy." 

"  ^  es,  my  dear  mother,"  exclaimed  Jane, 
with  a  deep  and  impassioned  sigh,  "  as  happy 
«£  you  have  be*en." 

The  expression  escaped  her  in  the  excitement 
of  the  moment.  Never  before  had  she  ventured 
in  the  remotest  way  to  allude  to  the  total  want 
•f  congeniality  which  she  could  not  but  per- 


1773.]  MAIDENHOOD.  69 

J«ue'i  father  becomes  dissipated.  Meekness  of  her  nu.tbtM 

oeive  existed  between  her  father  and  her  moth- 
er. Indeed,  her  mother's  character  for  patience 
and  placid  submission  was  so  remarkable,  that 
Jane  did  not  know  how  deeply  she  had  suffer- 
tsd,  nor  what  a  life  of  martyrdom  she  was  lead- 
ing. The  effect  of  Jane's  unpremeditated  re- 
mark opened  her  eyes  to  the  sad  reality.  Her 
mother  was  greatly  disconcerted.  Her  cheek 
changed  color.  Her  lip  trembled.  She  made 
no  reply.  She  never  again  opened  her  lips  upon 
the  subject  of  the  marriage  of  her  child. 

The  father  of  Jane,  with  no  religious  belief 
to  control  his  passions  or  guide  his  conduct,  was 
gradually  falling  into  those  habits  of  dissipation 
to  which  he  was  peculiarly  exposed  by  the  char- 
acter of  the  times.  He  neglected  his  business. 
He  formed  disreputable  acquaintances.  He  be- 
came irritable  and  domineering  over  his  wife, 
and  was  often  absent  from  home,  with  convivial 
clubs,  until  a  late  hour  of  the  night.  Neither 
mother  nor  daughter  ever  uttered  one  word  to 
each  other  in  reference  to  the  failings  of  the 
husband  and  father.  Jane,  however,  had  so 
powerful  an  influence  over  him,  that  she  often, 
by  her  persuasive  skill,  averted  the  storm  which 
was  about  to  descend  upon  her  meek  and  unre- 
sisting parent. 


70  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1773 

Kxcunlon  to  the  country.  Delusive  hopes 

The  poor  mother,  in  silence  and  sorrow,  was 
sinking  to  the  tomb  far  more  rapidly  than  Jane 
imagined.  One  summer's  day,  the  father,  moth- 
er, and  daughter  took  a  short  excursion  into  the 
country.  The  day  was  warm  and  beautiful. 
In  a  little  boat  they  glided  over  the  pleasant 
waters  of  the  Seine,  feasting  their  eyes  with  the 
beauties  of  nature  and  art  which  fringed  the 
shores.  The  pale  cheek  of  the  dying  wife  be- 
came flushed  with  animation  as  she  once  again 
breathed  the  invigorating  air  of  the  country, 
and  the  daughter  beguiled  her  fears  with  the 
delusive  hope  that  it  was  the  flush  of  returning 
health.  When  they  reached  their  home,  Ma- 
dame Phlippon,  fatigued  with  the  excursion, 
retired  to  her  chamber  for  rest.  Jane,  accom- 
panied by  her  maid,  went  to  the  convent  to  caL 
upon  her  old  friends  the  nuns.  She  made  ft 
very  short  call. 

"  Why  are  you  in  such  haste  ?"  inquired  Sis- 
ter Agatha. 

"I  am  anxious  to  return  to  my  -other." 
"  But  you  told  me  that  she  was  better." 
"  She  is  much  better  than  usual.    But  I  have 
a  strange  feeling  of  solicitude  about  her.    I  shall 
not  feel  easy  until  I  see  her  again." 

She  hurried  home,  and  was  met  at  the  door 


1774.J  MAIDENHOOD.  71 

Death  of  Madame  Phlippon.  Effecti  upon  JUM 

by  a  little  girl,  who  informed  her  that  her  moth- 
er was  very  dangerously  ilL  She  flew  to  the 
room,  and  found  her  almost  lifeless.  Another 
stroke  of  paralysis  had  done  its  work,  and  she 
was  dying.  She  raised  her  languid  eyes  to  her 
child,  but  her  palsied  tongue  could  speak  no 
word  of  tenderness.  One  arm  only  obeyed  the 
impulse  of  her  will.  She  raised  it,  and  affec- 
tionately patted  the  cheek  of  her  beloved  daugh- 
ter, and  wiped  the  tears  which  were  flowing 
down  her  cheeks.  The  priest  came  to  admin- 
ister the  last  consolations  of  religion.  Jane, 
with  her  eyes  riveted  upon  her  dying  parent, 
endeavored  to  hold  the  light.  Overpowered 
with  anguish,  the  light  suddenly  dropped  from 
her  hand,  and  she  fell  senseless  upon  the  floor. 
When  she  recovered  from  this  swoon  her  moth- 
er was  dead. 

Jane  was  entirely  overwhelmed  with  uncon- 
trollable and  delirious  sorrow.  For  many  days 
it  was  apprehended  thather  own  life  would  fall 
a  sacrifice  to  the  blow  which  her  affections  had 
received.  Instead  of  being  a  support  to  the 
family  in  this  hour  cf  trial,  she  added  to  the 
burden  and  the  care.  The  Abbe  Logrand,  who 
stood  by  her  bedside  as  her  whole  frame  was 
shaken  by  convulsions,  very  sensibly  remarked, 


72  MADAME   ROLAKD.  [1774 


Character  of  bar  mother 


"  It  it  a  good  thing  to  possess  sensibility.  It  is 
rery  unfortunate  to  have  so  much  of  it."  Grad- 
ually Jane  regained  composure,  but  life,  to  her, 
was  darkened.  She  now  began  to  realize  all 
those  evils  which  her  fond  mother  had  appre- 
hended. Speaking  of  her  departed  parent,  she 
says,  "  The  world  never  contained  a  better  or  a 
more  amiable  woman.  There  was  nothing  brill- 
iant in  her  character,  but  she  possessed  every 
quality  to  endear  her  to  all  by  whom  she  was 
known.  Naturally  endowed  with  the  sweetest 
disposition,  virtue  seemed  never  to  cost  Jier  any 
effort  Her  pure  and  tranquil  spirit  pursued  its 
even  course  like  the  docile  stream  that  bathes 
with  equal  gentleness,  the  foot  of  the  rock  which 
holds  it  captive,  and  the  valley  which  it  at  once 
enriches  and  adorns.  With  her  death  was  con- 
cluded the  tranquillity  of  my  youth,  which  till 
then  was  passed  in  the  enjoyment  of  blissful 
affections  and  beloved  occupations." 

Jane  soon  found  her  parental  home,  indeed, 
a  melancholy  abode.  She  was  truly  alone  in 
the  world.  Her  father  now  began  to  advance 
with  more  rapid  footsteps  in  the  career  of  dissi- 
pation. A  victim  to  that  infidelity  which  pre- 
sents no  obstacle  to  crime,  he  yielded  himself  a 
willing  captive  to  the  dominion  of  passion,  and 


1774.J  MAIDENHOOD.  73 

Jane's  melancholy.  8he  resorts  to  writing. 

disorder  reigned  through  the  desolated  house- 
hold. Jane  had  the  mortification  of  seeing  a 
woman  received  into  the  family  to  take  her 
mother's  place,  in  a  union  unsanctified  by  the 
taws  of  God.  A  deep  melancholy  settled  down 
upon  the  mind  of  the  wounded  girl,  and  she 
felt  that  she  was  desolate  and  an  alien  in  her 
own  home.  She  shut  herself  up  in  her  cham- 
ber with  her  thoughts  and  her  books.  All  the 
chords  of  her  sensitive  nature  now  vibrated  only 
responsive  to  those  melancholy  tones  which  are 
the  dirges  of  the  broken  heart.  As  there  never 
was  genius  untinged  by  melancholy,  so  may  it 
be  doubted  whether  there  ever  was  greatness 
of  character  which  had  not  been  nurtured  in  the 
school  of  great  affliction.  Her  heart  now  began 
to  feel  irrepressible  longings  for  the  sympathy 
of  some  congenial  friend,  upon  whose  support- 
ing bosom  she  could  lean  her  aching  head.  In 
lonely  musings  she  solaced  herself,  and  nurtur- 
ed her  own  thoughts  by  writing.  Her  pen  be- 
came her  friend,  and  the  resource  of  every 
weary  hour.  She  freely  gave  utterance  in  her 
diary  to  all  her  feelings  and  all  her  emotions 
Her  manuscripts  of  abstracts,  and  extracts,  and 
original  thoughts,  became  quite  voluminous 
In  this  way  she  was  daily  cultivating  that  paw 


74  MADAME    ROLAND.  [1775 

Deralopment  of  character.  Letter  from  If.  BolonoreL 

er  of  expression  and  that  force  of  eloquence 
which  so  often,  in  subsequent  life,  astonished 
and  oharmed  her  friends. 

In  every  development  of  character  in  her  most 
eventful  future  career,  one  can  distinctly  trace 
the  influence  of  these  vicissitudes  of  early  life, 
and  of  these  impressions  thus  powerfully  stamp- 
ed upon  her  nature.  Philosophy,  romance,  and 
religious  sentiment,  an  impassioned  mind  and 
a  glowing  heart,  admiration  of  heroism,  and 
emulation  of  martyrdom  in  some  noble  cause, 
all  conspired  to  give  her  sovereignty  over  the 
affections  of  others,  and  to  enable  her  to  sway 
human  wills  almost  at  pleasure. 

M.  Boismorel,  husband  of  the  aristocratic  lady 
to  whom  Jane  once  paid  so  disagreeable  a  vis- 
it, called  one  day  at  the  shop  of  M.  Phlippon, 
and  the  proud  father  could  not  refrain  from 
showing  him  some  of  the  writings  of  Jane. 
The  nobleman  had  sense  enough  to  be  very 
much  pleased  with  the  talent  which  they  dis- 
played, and  wrote  her  a  very  flattering  letter, 
offering  her  the  ,free  use  of  his  very  valuable 
library,  and  urging  her  to  devote  her  life  to  lit- 
erary pursuits,  and  at  once  to  commence  au- 
thorship. Jane  was  highly  gratified  by  this 
commendation,  and  most  eagerly  availed  her- 


1775.]  MAIDENHOOD.  75 

Reply  to  M.  De  BoUmoreL  Traatlatioa. 

§elf  of  his  most  valuable  offer.  In  reply  to  his 
suggestion  respecting  authorship,  she  inclosed 
the  following  lines : 

"  Aux  hommes  ouvrant  la  carriers 
Des  grands  et  das  nobles  talents, 

Us  ii 'out  mis  aucune  barriere 
A  leurs  plus  sublimes  Claris. 

'•  De  mon  sexe  foible  et  sensible, 
Us  ne  veulout  qne  des  vertus ; 
Nous  pouvons  imiter  Titus, 

Mais  dans  un  sentier  moins  penible. 

"  Joossiez  du  bien  d'etre  adrais 
A  toutes  ces  sortes  de  gloire 
Pour  nous  le  temple  de  memoire 
Est  dans  le  cceurs  de  nos  amis." 

These  lines  have  been  thus  vigorously  trans- 
lated in  the  interesting  sketch  given  by  Mra 
Child  of  Madame  Roland : 

"  To  man's  aspiring  sex  'tis  given 

To  climb  the  highest  hill  of  fame } 
To  tread  the  shortest  road  to  heaven, 
And  gain  by  death  a  deathless  name. 

"  Of  well-fought  fields  and  trophies  won 
The  memory  lives  while  ages  pass ; 
Graven  on  everlasting  stone, 
Or  written  on  retentive  brass. 

•  But  to  poor  feeble  womankind 
The  meed  of  glory  is  denied ; 
Within  a  narrow  sphere  confined. 
The  lowly  virtues  are  their  pride 


76  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1775 

Character  of  M.  De  BoismoreL  Jane  introduced  to  the  uobffit? 

"  Yet  not  deciduous  is  their  fame, 

Ending  wnere  frail  existence  endsj 
A  sacred  temple  holds  their  name—- 
The heart  of  their  surviving  friends." 

A  friendly  correspondence  ensued  between 
Jane  and  M.  De  Boismofel,  which  continued 
through  his  life.  He  was  a  very  worthy  and 
intelligent  man,  and  became  so  much  interest- 
ed in  his  young  friend,  that  he  wished  to  con- 
nect her  in  marriage  with  his  son.  This  young 
man  was  indolent  and  irresolute  hi  character, 
and  his  father  thought  that  he  would  be  great- 
ly benefited  by  a  wife  of  decision  and  judgment. 
Jane,  however,  was  no  more  disposed  to  fall  in 
love  with  rank  than  with  wealth,  and  took  no 
fancy  whatever  to  the  characterless  young  no- 
bleman. The  judicious  father  saw  that  it 
would  be  utterly  unavailing  to  urge  the  suit, 
and  the  matter  was  dropped. 

Through  the  friendship  of  M.  De  Boismorel, 
she  was  often  introduced  to  the  great  world  of 
lords  and  ladies.  Even  his  formal  and  haughty 
wife  became  much  interested  in  the  fascinating 
young  lady,  and  her  brilliant  talents  and  ac- 
complishments secured  her  invitations  to  many 
social  interviews  to  which  she  would  not  have 
been  entitled  by  her  birth.  This  slight  ac- 
quaintance with  tne  nobility  of  France  did  not, 


1775.]  MAIDENHOOD.  77 

Jane  •  contempt  for  the  aristocracy.  Her  good  tart* 

however,  elevate  them  in  her  esteem.  8h« 
found  the  conversation  of  the  old  marquises  and 
antiquated  dowagers  who  frequented  the  salcor 
of  Madame  De  Boismorel  more  insipid  end  0 
literate  than  that  of  the  tradespeople  who  vis- 
ited her  father's  shop,  and  upon  whom  those 
nobles  looked  down  with  such  contempt.  Jane 
was  also  disgusted  with  the  many  indications 
she  saw,  not  only  of  indolence  and  voluptuous- 
ness, but  of  dissipation  and  utter  want  of  prin- 
ciple. Her  good  sense  enabled  her  to  move 
among  these  people  as  a  studious  observer  of 
this  aspect  of  human  nature,  neither  adopting 
their  costume  nor  imitating  their  manners.  She 
was  very  unostentatious  and  simple  in  her  style 
of  dress,  and  never,  in  the  slightest  degree,  af- 
fected the  mannerism  of  mindless  and  he  Tfr- 
less  fashion. 

Madame  De  Boismorel,  at  one  time  eulogiz- 
ing her  taste  in  these  respects,  remarked, 

"  You  do  not  love  feathers,  do  you,  Miss 
Phlippon?  How  very  different  you  are  from 
the  giddy-headed  girls  around  us  !" 

"  I  never  wear  feathers,"  Jane  replied,  "  oe- 
oause  I  do  not  think  that  they  would  correspond 
with  the  condition  in  life  of  an  artist's  daugh- 
ter who  is  going  about  on  foot." 


78  MADAME  ROLAND.  [177& 

M.  ThBpponi  progres»  in  dissipation.  Jane'»  painful  tituatlo" 

"  But,  were  you  in  a  different  situation  in 
life,  would  you  then  wear  feathers  ?" 

"I  do  not  know  what  I  should  do  in  that 
case.  I  attach  very  slight  importance  to  such 
trifles.  I  merely  consider  what  is  suitable  foi 
myself,  and  should  be  very  sorry  to  judge  of 
others  by  the  superficial  information  afforded 
by  their  dress." 

M.  Phlippon  now  began  to  advance  more  rap- 
Idly  in  the  career  of  dissipation.  Jane  did  ev- 
ery thing  in  her  power  to  lure  him  to  love  his 
home.  All  her  efforts  were  entirely  unavail- 
ing. Night  after  night  he  was  absent  until  the 
Jatest  hours  at  convivial  clubs  and  card-parties 
He  formed  acquaintance  with  those  with  whom 
Jane  could  not  only  have  no  congeniality  of 
taste,  but  who  must  have  excited  in  her  emo- 
tions of  the  deepest  repugnance.  These  com- 
panions  were  often  at  his  house ;  and  the  com- 
fortable property  which  M.  Phlippon  possessed, 
under  this  course  of  dissipation  was  fast  melt- 
ing  away.  Jane's  situation  was  now  painful  in 
the  extreme.  Ijfer  mother,  who  had  been  the 
guardian  angel  of  her  life,  was  sleeping  in  the 
grave  Her  father  was  advancing  with  the 
most  rapid  strides  in  the  road  to  ruin.  Jane 
was  in  danger  of  soon  being  left  an  orphan  and 


1775.J  MAIDENHOOD.  79 

Jane  tecures  a  »m%U  income.  CcmsolatlojB  of  literatim*. 

utterly  penniless.  Her  father  was  daily  becom- 
ing more  neglectful  and  unkind  to  his  daughter, 
as  he  became  more  dissatisfied  with  himself 
and  with  the  world.  Under  these  circum- 
stances, Jane,  by  the  advice  of  friends,  had  re- 
»ort  to  a  legal  process,  by  which  there  was  se- 
eured  to  her,  from  the  wreck  of  her  mother's 
fortune,  an  annual  income  of-about  one  hund- 
red dollars. 

In  these  gloomy  hours  which  clouded  the 
morning  of  life's  tempestuous  day,  Jane  found 
an  unfailing  resource  and  solace  in  her  love  of 
literature.  With  pen  in  hand,  extracting  beau- 
tiful passages  and  expanding  suggested  thoughts, 
she  forgot  her  griefs  and  beguiled  many  hours, 
which  would  otherwise  have  been  burdened 
with  intolerable  wretchedness.  Maria  Antoi- 
nette, woe- worn  and  weary,  in  tones  of  despair 
uttered  the  exclamation, "  Oh '  what  a  resource, 
amid  the  casualties  of  life,  must  there  be  in  a 
highly-cultivated  mind."  The  plebeian  maid- 
en could  utter  the  same  exclamation  in  accent* 
of  joyfulness. 


80  MADAME   ROLAND.  [177C 

•ophla  Cannet.  RoUnd  do  U  PiUtAw 


CHAPTER  IV. 
MARRIAGE. 

TTfTHEN  Jane  was  in  the  convent,  she  be- 
'  came  acquainted  with  a  young  lady  from 
Amiens,  Sophia  Cannet.  They  formed  for  each 
other  a  strong  attachment,  and  commenced  a 
correspondence  which  continued  for  many  years. 
There  was  a  gentleman  in  Amiens  by  the  name 
of  Roland  de  la  Platiere,  born  of  an  opulent 
family,  and  holding  the  quite  important  office 
of  inspector  of  manufactures..  His  time  was 
mainly  occupied  in  traveling  and  study.  Being 
deeply  interested  in  all  subjects  relating  to  po- 
litical economy,  he  had  devoted  much  attention 
to  that  noble  science,  and  had  written  several 
treatises  upon  commerce,  mechanics,  and  agri- 
culture, which  had  given  him,  in  the  literary 
and  scientific  world,  no  little  celebrity.  He  fre- 
quently visited  the  father  of  Sophia.  She  often 
spoke  to  him  of  her  friend  Jane,  showed  him 
her  portrait,  and  read  to  him  extracts  from  her 
glowing  letters.  The  calm  philosopher  became 
very  much  interested  in  the  enthusiastic  maid 


1776.]  MARRIAGE.  81 

M.  Roland.  Hi*  personal  appearance. 

en,  and  entreated  Sophia  to  give  him  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  her,  upon  one  of  his  annual 
visits  to  Paris.  Sophia  had  also  often  written 
to  Jano  of  her  father's  friend,  whom  she  regard- 
ed with  so  much  reverence. 

One  day  Jane  was  sitting  alone  in  her  deso- 
late home,  absorbed  in  pensive  musings,  when 
M.  Roland  entered,  bearing  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion to  her  from  Sophia.  "  You  will  receive 
this  letter,"  her  friend  wrote,  "  by  the  hand  of 
the  philosopher  of  whom  I  have  so  often  writ- 
ten to  you.  M.  Roland  is  an  enlightened  man, 
of  antique  manners,  without  reproach,  except 
for  his  passion  for  the  ancients,  his  contempt  for 
the  moderns,  and  his  too  high  estimation  of  his 
own  virtue." 

The  gentleman  thus  introduced  to  her  was 
about  forty  years  old.  He  was  tall,  slender, 
and  well  formed,  with  a  little  stoop  in  his  gait, 
and  manifested  in  his  manners  that  self-pos- 
session which  is  the  result  of  conscious  worth 
and  intellectual  power,  while,  at  the  same  time, 
he  exhibited  that  slight  and  not  displeasing 
awkwardness  which  one  unavoidably  acquires 
in  hours  devoted  to  silence  and  study.  Still, 
Madame  Roland  says,  in  her  description  of  his 

person,  that  he  was  courteous  and  winning  \ 

18—6 


82  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1777 

Character  of  M.  Roland.  Firrt  bnpiwutoa* 

and  though  his  manners  did  not  possess  all  the 
easy  elegance  of  the  man  of  fashion,  they  unit- 
ed the  politeness  of  the  well-bred  man  with  the 
anostentatious  gravity  of  the  philosopher.  Ho 
was  thin,  with  a  complexion  much  tanned.  His 
broad  and  intellectual  brow,  covered  with  but 
few  hairs,  added  to  the  imposing  attractiveness 
of  his  features.  When  listening,  his  counte- 
nance had  an  expression  of  deep  thoughtful- 
ness,  and  almost  of  sadness ;  but  when  excited 
in  speaking,  a  smile  of  great  cheerfulness  spread 
over  his  animated  features.  His  voice  was  rich 
and  sonorous ;  his  mode  of  speech  brief  and  sen- 
tentious ;  his  conversation  full  of  information, 
and  rich  in  suggestive  thought. 

Jane,  the  enthusiastic,  romantic  Jane,  saw  in 
the  serene  philosopher  one  of  the  sages  of  anti- 
quity, and  almost  literally  bowed  and  worship- 
ed. All  the  sentiments  of  M.  Roland  were  in 
accordance  with  the  most  cherished  emotions 
which  glowed  in  her  own  mind.  She  found 
what  she  had  ever  been  seeking,  but  had  never 
found  before,  a  truly  sympathetic  soul.  She 
thought  not  of  love.  She  looked  up  to  M.  Ro- 
land as  to  a  superior  being — to  an  oracle,  by 
wnoee  decisions  she  could  judge  whether  he? 
•wn  opinions  were  right  or  wrong.  It  is  tru» 


1777.]  MARRIAGE.  83 

Jane  8  appreciation  of  M.  Roland.  Mind*  and  heart*. 

that  M.  Roland,  cool  and  unimpassioned  in  all 
his  mental  operations,  never  entered  those  airy 
realms  of  beauty  and  those  visionary  regions  of 
romance  where  Jane  loved,  at  times,  to  reveL 
And  perhaps  Jane  venerated  him  still  more  for 
his  more  stern  and  unimaginative  philosophy. 
But  his  meditative  wisdom,  his  abstraction  from 
the  frivolous  pursuits  of  life,  his  high  ambition, 
his  elevated  pleasures,  his  consciousness  of  su- 
periority over  the  mass  of  his  fellow-men,  and 
his  sleepless  desire  to  be  a  benefactor  of  human- 
ity, were  all  traits  of  character  which  resistless- 
ly  attracted  the  admiration  of  Jane.  She  ador- 
ed him  as  a  disciple  adores  his  master.  She 
listened  eagerly  to  all  his  words,  and  loved  com- 
munion with  his  thoughts.  M.  Roland  was  by 
no  means  insensible  to  this  homage,  and  though 
he  looked  upon  her  with  none  of  the  emotions 
of  a  lover,  he  was  charmed  with  her  society  be- 
cause she  was  so  delighted  with  his  own  conver 
Ration.  By  the  faculty  of  attentively  listening 
to  what  others  had  to  say,  Madame  Roland 
affirms  that  she  made  more  friends  than  by  any 
remarks  she  ever  made  of  her  own.  The  two 
minds,  not  hearts,  were  at  once  united;  but 
this  platonio  union  soon  led  to  one  more  tender. 
M.  Roland  had  recently  been  traveling  in 


MADAME   ROLAND.  (1777 


Jownul  of  M.  Roland.  HU  notei  on  Italy 

Germany,  and  had  written  a  copious  journal 
of  his  tour.  As  he  was  about  to  depart  from 
Paris  for  Italy,  he  left  this  journal,  with  othei 
manuscripts,  in  the  hands  of  Jane.  "  These 
manuscripts,"  she  writes,  "  made  me  better  ac- 
quainted with  him,  during  the  eighteen  months 
he  passed  in  Italy,  than  frequent  visits  could 
have  done.  They  consisted  of  travels,  reflec- 
tions, plans  of  literary  works,  and  personal  an- 
ecdotes. A  strong  mind,  striot  principles,  and 
personal  taste,  were  evident  in  every  page." 
He  also  introduced  Jane  to  his  brother,  a  Ben- 
edictine monk.  During  the  eighteen  months  of 
his  absence  from  Paris,  he  was  traveling  in  It- 
aly, Switzerland,  Sicily,  and  Malta,  and  writ- 
ing notes  upon  those  countries,  which  he  after- 
ward published.  These  notes  he  communicat- 
ed to  his  brother  the  monk,  and  he  transmitted 
them  to  Jane.  She  read  them  with  intense  in- 
terest. At  length  he  returned  again  to  Paris, 
and  their  acquaintance  was  renewed.  M.  Ro- 
land submitted  to  her  his  literary  projects,  and 
was  much  gratified  in  finding  that  she  approved 
of  all  that  he  did  and  all  that  he  contemplated. 
She  found  in  him  an  invaluable  friend.  His 
gravity,  his  intellectual  life;  his  almost  stoioa. 
philosophy  impressed  her  imagination  and  cap- 


1778.]  MA*RIA«E.  85 

Tie  light  IB  which  Jane  and  M.  Roland  regard  each  other. 

tivated  her  understanding.  Two  or  three  yean 
passed  away  ere  either  of  them  seemed  to  have 
thought  of  the  other  in  the  light  of  a  lover. 
She  regarded  him  as  a  guide  and  friend.  Tnere 
was  no  ardor  of  youthful  love  warming  her 
heart.  There  were  no  impassioned  affections 
glowing  in  her  bosom  and  impelling  her  to  his 
side.  Intellectual  enthusiasm  alone  animated 
her  in  welcoming  an  intellectual  union  with  a 
noble  mind.  M.  Roland,  on  the  other  hand, 
looked  with  placid  and  paternal  admiration  upon 
the  brilliant  girl.  He  was  captivated  by  her 
genius  and  the  charms  of  her  conversation,  and, 
above  all,  by  her  profound  admiration  of  him- 
self. They  were  mutually  happy  in  each  oth- 
er's society,  and  were  glad  to  meet  and  loth  to 
part.  They  conversed  upon  literary  projects, 
upon  political  reforms,  upon  speculations  in  phi- 
losophy and  science.  M.  Roland  was  natural- 
ly self-confident,  opinionated,  and  domineering. 
Jane  regarded  him  with  so  much  reverence  that 
she  received  his  opinions  for  law.  Thus  he  was 
flattered  and  she  was  happy. 

M.  Roland  returned  to  his  official  post  at 
Amiens,  and  engaged  in  preparing  his  work  on 
Italy  for  the  press.  They  carried  on  a  volurai- 
DODS  and  regular  correspondence  He  forward 


86  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1778 

M.  Roland  profciMM  hU  attachment  Foelingt  of  Jane 

ed  to  her,  in  manuscript,  all  the  sheets  of  his 
proposed  publication,  and  she  returned  them 
with  the  accompanying  thoughts  which  their 
perusa1  elicited.  Now  and  then  an  expression 
of  decorous  endearment  would  escape  from  each 
pen  in  the  midst  of  philosophic  discussions  and 
political  speculations.  It  was  several  years  aft- 
er their  acquaintance  commenced  before  M.  Ro- 
land made  an  avowal  of  his  attachment.  Jane 
knew  very  well  the  pride  of  the  Roland  family, 
and  that  her  worldly  circumstances  were  such 
that,  in  their  estimation,  the  connection  would 
not  seem  an  advantageous  one.  She  also  was 
too  proud  to  enter  into  a  family  who  might  feel 
dishonored  by  the  alliance.  She  therefore  frank- 
ly told  him  that  she  felt  much  honored  by  his 
addresses,  and  that  she  esteemed  him  more 
highly  than  any  other  man  she  had  ever  met. 
She  assured  him  that  she  should  be  most  happy 
to  make  him  a  full  return  for  his  affection,  but 
that  her  father  was  a  ruined  man,  and  that,  by 
his  increasing  debts  and  his  errors  of  character, 
still  deeper  disgrace  might  be  entailed  upon  all 
connected  with  him ;  and  she  therefore  could 
iiot  think  of  allowing  M.  Roland  to  make  his 
generosity  to  her  a  source  of  future  mortifica- 
tion to  himself 


1778.]  MARRIAGE.  87 

M  Roland  write*  to  J«ne'»  father,  hualtiag  letter  of  If.  Phllppoa. 

This  was  not  the  spirit  most  likely  to  repel 
the  philosophic  lover.  The  more  she  manifest- 
ed this  elevation  of  soul,  in  which  Jane  was 
perfectly  sincere,  the  more  earnestly  did  M.  Ro- 
land persist  in  his  plea.  At  last  Jane,  influ- 
enced by  his  entreaties,  consented  that  he 
should  make  proposals  to  her  father.  He  wrote 
to  M.  Phlippon.  In  reply,  he  received  an  in- 
sulting letter,  containing  a  blunt  refusal.  M. 
Phlippon  declared  that  he  had  no  idea  of  hav- 
ing for  a  son-in-law  a  man  of  such  rigid  princi- 
ples, who  would  ever  be  reproaching  him  for  all 
his  little  errors.  He  also  told  his  daughter  that 
she  would  find  in  a  man  of  such  austere  virtue, 
not  a  companion  and  an  equal,  but  a  censor 
and  a  tyrant.  Jane  laid  this  refusal  of  her  fa- 
ther deeply  to  heart,  and,  resolving  that  if  she 
could  not  marry  the  man  of  her  choice,  she 
would  marry  no  one  else,  she  wrote  to  M.  Ro- 
land, requesting  him  to  abandon  his  design,  and 
not  to  expose  himself  to  any  further  affronts. 
She  then  requested  permission  of  her  father  to 
retire  to  a  convent. 

Her  reception  at  the  convent,  where  she  wai 
already  held  in  such  high  esteem,  was  cordial 
in  the  extreme.  The  scanty  income  she  had 
•aved  from  her  mother's  property  rendered  it 


88  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1778 

Jane  retire*  to  •  convent  Her  mode  of  life  there 

necessary  for  her  to  live  with  the  utmost  fru- 
gality. She  determined  to  regulate  her  ex- 
penses in  accordance  with  this  small  sum.  Po- 
tatoes, rice,  and  beans,  with  a  little  salt,  and 
occasionally  the  luxury  of  a  little  butter,  were 
her  only  food.  She  allowed  herself  to  leave  the 
convent  but  twice  a  week  :  once,  to  call,  for  an 
hour,  upon  a  relative,  and  once  to  visit  her  fa- 
ther, and  look  over  his  linen.  She  had  a  little 
room  under  the  roof,  in  the  attic,  where  the 
pattering  of  the  rain  upon  the  tiles  soothed  to 
pensive  thought,  and  lulled  her  to  sleep  by 
night.  She  carefully  secluded  herself  from  as- 
sociation with  the  other  inmates  of  the  convent, 
receiving  only  a  visit  of  an  hour  each  evening 
from  the  much-loved  Sister  Agatha.  Her  time 
she  devoted,  with  unremitting  diligence,  to  those 
literary  avocations  in  which  she  found  so  much 
delight.  The  quiet  and  seclusion  of  this  life 
had  many  charms  for  Jane.  Indeed,  a  person 
with  such  resources  for  enjoyment  within  her- 
self could  never  be  very  weary.  The  votaries 
of  fashion  and  gayety  are  they  to  whom  exist- 
ence grows  languid  and  life  a  burden.  Several 
months  thus  glided  away  in  tranquillity.  She 
occasionally  walked  in  the  garden,  at  hour* 
when  no  one  else  was  there.  The  spirit  of  re*- 


1779J  MARRIA6E.  89 

Correspondence  with  M.  Roland.  He  n+*rcu  to  Pirta. 

ignation,  which  she  had  so  long  cultivated ;  the 
peaceful  conscience  she  enjoyed,  in  view  of 
duty  performed ;  the  elevation  of  spirit,  which 
enabled  her  to  rise  superior  to  misfortune ;  the 
methodical  arrangement  of  time,  which  assign- 
ed to  each  hour  its  appropriate  duty ;  the  habit 
of  close  application,  which  riveted  her  attention 
to  her  studies ;  the  highly-cultivated  taste  and 
buoyantly  -  winged  imagination,  which  opened 
before  her  all  the  fairy  realms  of  fancy,  were 
treasures  which  gilded  her  cell  and  enriched 
her  heart.  She  passed,  it  is  true,  some  melan- 
choly hours ;  but  even  that  melancholy  had  ita 
charms,  and  was  more  rich  in  enjoyment  than 
the  most  mirthful  moments  through  which  the 
unreflecting  flutter.  M.  Roland  continued  a 
very  constant  and  kind  correspondence  with 
Jane,  but  she  was  not  a  little  wounded  by  the 
philosophic  resignation  with  which  he  submit- 
ted to  her  father's  stern  refusal.  In  the  course 
of  five  or  six  months  he  again  visited  Paris,  and 
called  at  the  convent  to  see  Jane.  He  saw  her 
pale  and  pensive  face  behind  a  grating,  and  the 
sight  of  one  who  had  suffered  so  much  from  her 
faithful  love  for  him,  and  the  sound  of  her  voice, 
which  ever  possessed  a  peculiar  charm,  revived 
UD  his  mind  those  impressions  which  had  been 


MADAME   ROLAND.  [1780. 


M.  Roland  renews  fain  offers  to  Jane.  They  «r»  married. 

somewhat  fading  away.  He  again  renewed  his 
offer,  and  entreated  her  to  aJlow  the  marriage 
ceremony  at  once  to  be  performed  by  his  broth 
er  the  prior.  Jane  was  in  much  perplexity. 
She  did  not  feel  that  her  father  was  in  a  situ 
ation  longer  to  control  her,  and  she  was  a  little 
mortified  by  the  want  of  ardor  which  her  phil- 
osophical lover  had  displayed.  The  illusion  of 
romantic  love  was  entirely  dispelled  from  her 
mind,  and,  at  the  same  time,  she  felt  flattered 
by  his  perseverance,  by  the  evidence  that  his 
most  mature  judgment  approved  of  his  choice, 
and  by  his  readiness  to  encounter  all  the  un- 
pleasant circumstances  in  which  he  might  be 
involved  by  his  alliance  with  her.  Jane,  with- 
out much  delay,  yielded  to  his  appeals.  They 
were  married  in  the  winter  of  1780.  Jane  was 
then  twenty-five  years  of  age.  Her  husband 
was  twenty  years  her  senior. 

The  first  year  of  their  marriage  life  they 
passed  in  Paris.  It  was  to  Madame  Roland  a 
year  of  great  enjoyment.  Her  husband  was 
publishing  a  work  upon  the  arts,  and  she,  with 
all  tae  energy  of  her  enthusiastic  mind,  entered 
into  all  his  literary  enterprises.  With  great 
care  and  accuracy,  she  prepared  his  manuscripts 
for  the  press,  and  corrected  the  proofs.  She 


1780.]  MARRIAGE.  91 

Pint  year  of  married  life.     Madame  Roland's  devotion  to  her  buibaad. 

lived  in  the  study  with  him,  became  the  com- 
panion of  all  his  thoughts,  and  his  assistant  in 
all  his  labors.  The  only  recreations  in  which 
she  indulged,  during  the  winter,  were  to  attend 
a  course  of  lectures  upon  natural  history  and 
botany.  M.  Roland  had  hired  ready-furnished 
lodgings.  She,  well  instructed  by  her  mother 
in  domestic  duties,  observing  that  all  kinds  of 
cooking  did  not  agree  with  him,  took  pleasure 
in  preparing  his  food  with  her  own  hands.  Her 
husband  engrossed  her  whole  time,  and,  being 
naturally  rather  austere  and  imperious,  he  wish- 
ed so  to  seclude  her  from  the  society  of  others 
as  to  monopolize  all  her  capabilities  of  friendly 
feeling.  She  submitted  to  the  exaction  without 
a  murmur,  though  there  were  hours  in  which 
she  felt  that  she  had  made,  indeed,  a  serious 
sacrifice  of  her  youthful  and  buoyant  affections. 
Madame  Roland  devoted  herself  so  entirely  to 
the  studies  in  which  her  husband  was  engaged 
that  her  health  was  seriously  impaired.  Accus- 
tomed as  she  was  to  share  in  all  his  pursuits, 
he  began  to  think  that  he  could  not  do  without 
her  at  any  time  or  on  any  occasion. 

At  the  close  of  the  year  M.  Roland  returned 
to  Amiens  with  his  wife.  She  soon  gave  birth 
to  a  daughter,  her  only  child,  whom  she  mur* 


92  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1780. 

Birth  of  •  daughter.  Literary  pursuit* 

tured  with  the  most  assiduous  care.  Her  lit- 
erary labors  were,  however,  unremitted,  and, 
though  a  mother  and  a  nurse,  she  still  lived  in 
the  study  with  her  books  and  her  pen.  M.  Ro- 
land was  writing  several  articles  for  an  ency- 
clopedia. She  aided  most  efficiently  in  collect- 
ing the  materials  and  arranging  the  matter. 
Indeed,  she  wielded  a  far  more  vigorous  pen 
than  he  did.  Her  copiousness  of  language,  her 
facility  of  expression,  and  the  play  of  her  fancy, 
gave  her  the  command  of  a  very  fascinating 
style ;  and  M.  Roland  obtained  the  credit  for 
many  passages  rich  in  diction  and  beautiful  in 
'imagery  for  which  he  was  indebted  to  the  glow- 
Ing  imagination  of  his  wife.  Frequent  sickness 
of  her  husband  alarmed  her  for  his  life.  The 
tenderness  with  which  she  watched  over  him 
strengthened  the  tie  which  united  them.  He 
could  not  but  love  a  young  and  beautiful  wife 
so  devoted  to  him.  She  could  not  but  love  one 
upon  whom  she  was  conferring  such  rich  bless- 
ings. They  remained  in  Amiens  for  four  years. 
Their  little  daughter  Eudora  was  a  source  of 
gieat  delight  to  the  fond  parents,  arid  Madame 
Roland  took  the  deepest  interest  in  the  devel- 
opments of  her  infantile  mind.  The  office  of 
M.Roland  was  highly  lucrative,  and  his  liter- 


1780.J  MARRIAOB.  93 

Application  for  letters-patent  of  nobility.  Visit  to  England. 

ary  projects  successful;  and  their  position  in 
society  was  that  of  an  opulent  family  of  illus- 
trious descent — for  the  ancestors  of  M.  Roland 
had  been  nobles.  He  now,  with  his  accumu- 
lated wealth,  was  desirous  of  being  reinstated 
in  that  ancestral  rank  which  the  family  had 
lost  with  the  loss  of  fortune.  Neither  must  we 
blame  our  republican  heroine  too  much  that, 
under  this  change  of  circumstances,  she  was 
not  unwilling  that  he  should  resume  that  ex- 
alted social  position  to  which  she  believed  him 
to  be  so  richly  entitled.  It  could  hardly  be  un- 
pleasant to  her  to  be  addressed  as  Lady  Roland. 
It  is  the  infirmity  of  our  frail  nature  that  it  is 
more  agreeable  to  ascend  to  the  heights  of  those 
who  are  above  us,  than  to  aid  those  below  to 
reach  the  level  we  have  attained.  Encounter- 
ing some  embarrassments  in  their  application 
for  letters-patent  of  nobility,  the  subject  was 
set  aside  for  the  time,  and  was  never  after  re- 
newed. The  attempt,  however,  subsequently 
exposed  them  to  great  ridicule  from  their  dem- 
ocratic opponents. 

About  this  time  they  visited  England.  They 
were  received  with  much  attention,  and  Ma- 
dame Roland  admired  exceedingly  the  compar- 
atively free  institutions  of  that  country.  She 


94  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1780. 

RemoTsI  to  Lyon*.  La  PlmtUra  uu)  iU  tomato* 

felt  that  the  English,  as  a  nation,  were  im- 
measurably superior  to  the  French,  and  return- 
ee] to  her  own  home  more  than  ever  dissatisfied 
with  the  despotic  monarchy  by  which  the  peo 
pie  of  France  were  oppressed. 

From  Amiens,  M.  Roland  removed  to  the 
city  of  Lyons,  his  native  place,  in  which  wider 
sphere  he  continued  the  duties  of  his  office  as 
Inspector  General  of  Commerce  and  Manufac- 
tures. In  the  winter  they  resided  in  the  city. 
During  the  summer  they  retired  to  M.  Roland's 
paternal  estate,  La  Platiere,  a  very  beautiful 
rural  retreat  but  a  few  miles  from  Lyons.  The 
mother  of  M.  Roland  and  an  elder  brother  resid- 
ed on  the  same  estate.  They  constituted  the 
ingredient  of  bitterness  in  their  cup  of  joy.  It 
seems  that  in  this  life  it  must  ever  be  that  each 
pleasure  shall  have  its  pain.  No  happiness  can 
oorne  unalloyed.  La  Platiere  possessed  for  Ma- 
dame Roland  all  the  essentials  of  an  earthly 
paradise ;  but  those  trials  which  are  the  unva- 
rying lot  of  fallen  humanity  obtained  entrance 
there.  Her  mother-in-law  was  proud,  imperi- 
ous, ignorant,  petulant,  and  disagreeable  in  ev- 
ery development  of  character.  There  are  few 
greater  annoyances  of  life  than  an  irritable 
woman,  rendered  doubly  morose  by  the  infirm- 


1780.]  MARRIAGE.  90 

Death  of  M.  Roland'*  mother.  Situation  of  La  t  u*Um 

ities  of  years.  The  brother  was  coarse  and  ar- 
rogant, without  any  delicacy  of  feeling  himself, 
and  apparently  unconscious  that  others  could 
be  troubled  by  any  such  sensitiveness.  The 
disciplined  spirit  of  Madame  Roland  triumphed 
over  even  these  annoyances,  and  she  gradually 
infused  through  the  discordant  household,  by 
her  own  cheerful  spirit,  a  great  improvement 
in  harmony  and  peace.  It  is  not,  however, 
possible  that  Madame  Roland  should  have  shed 
many  tears  when,  on  one  bright  autumnal  day, 
this  hasty  tongue  and  turbulent  spirit  were 
hushed  in  that  repose  from  which  there  is  nc 
awaking.  Immediately  after  this  event,  at- 
tracted by  the  quiet  of  this  secluded  retreat, 
they  took  up  their  abode  there  for  both  sum- 
mer and  winter. 

La  Platiere,  the  paternal  inheritance  of  M 
Roland,  was  an  estate  situated  at  the  base  of 
the  mountains  of  Beaujolais,  in  the  valley  of 
the  Saone.  It  is  a  region  solitary  and  wild,  with 
rivulets,  meandering  down  from  the  mountains, 
fringed  with  willows  and  poplars,  and  thread- 
ing their  way  through  narrow,  yet  smooth  ant* 
fertile  meadows,  luxuriant  with  vineyards.  A 
large,  square  stone  i&ouse,  with  regular  win- 
dows, and  a  roof,  nearly  flat .  of  red  tiles, 


96  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1781 

Description  of  La  Platifire.  Surrounding  scenery 

stituted  the  comfortable,  spacious,  and  substan- 
tial mansion.  The  eaves  projected  quite  a  dis- 
tance beyond  the  walls,  to  protect  the  windows 
frDin  the  summer's  sun  and  the  winter's  rain 
and  snow.  The  external  walls,  straight,  and 
entirely  unornamented,  were  covered  with  white 
plaster,  which,  in  many  places,  the  storms  of 
years  had  cracked  and  peeled  off.  The  house 
stood  elevated  from  the  ground,  and  the  front 
door  was  entered  by  ascending  five  massive- 
stone  steps,  which  were  surmounted  by  a  rustj 
iron  balustrade.  Barns,  wine-presses,  dove-cots 
and  sheep-pens  were  clustered  about,  so  that 
the  farm-house,  with  its  out-buildings,  almost 
presented  the  aspect  of  a  little  village.  A  veg- 
etable garden ;  a  flower  garden,  with  serpentine 
walks  and  arbors  embowered  in  odoriferous  and 
flowering  shrubs  ;  an  orchard,  casting  the  shade 
of  a  great  variety  of  fruit-trees  over  the  closely- 
rriwn  greensward,  and  a  vineyard,  with  long 
lines  of  low-trimmed  grape  vines,  gave  a  finish 
to  this  most  rural  and  attractive  picture.  In 
the  distance  was  seen  the  rugged  range  of  the 
mountains  of  Beaujolais,  while  still  further  in 
the  distance  rose  towering  above  them  the 
•now-capped  summits  of  the  Alps.  Here,  in 
this  social  solitude,  in  this  harmony  of  silence, 


18—7 


1782.]  MARRIAGE.  99 

r**n  of  happiness  Mode  of  life 

in  this  wide  expanse  of  nature,  Madame  Roland 
passed  five  of  the  happiest  years  of  her  ln*«?— • 
five  such  years  as  few  mortals  enjoy  on  earth. 
She,  whose  spirit  had  been  so  often  exhilarated 
by  the  view  of  the  tree  tops  and  the  few  square 
yards  of  blue  sky  which  were  visible  from  the 
window  of  her  city  home,  was  enchanted  with 
the  exuberance  of  the  prospect  of  mountain  and 
meadow,  water  and  sky,  so  lavishly  spread  out 
before  her.  The  expanse,  apparently  so  limit- 
less, open  to  her  view,  invited  her  fancy  to  a 
range  equally  boundless.  Nature  and  imagina- 
tion were  her  friends,  and  in  their  realms  she 
found  her  home.  Enjoying  an  ample  income, 
engaged  constantly  in  the  most  ennobling  liter- 
ary pursuits,  rejoicing  in  the  society  of  her  hus- 
band and  her  little  Eudora,  and  superintending 
her  domestic  concerns  with  an  ease  and  skill 
which  made  that  superintendence  a  pleasures 
time  flew  upon  its  swiftest  wings. 

Her  mode  of  life  during  these  five  calm  and 
sunny  years  which  intervened  between  the 
cloudy  morning  and  the  tempestuous  evening 
of  her  days,  must  have  been  exceedingly  attract- 
ive. She  rose  with  the  sun,  devoted  sundry  at- 
tentions to  her  husband  and  child,  and  person- 
ally superintended  the  arrangements  for  break- 


100  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1783 


Eudora. 


fast,  taking  an  affectionate  pleasure  in  prepar- 
ing very  nicely  her  husband's  frugal  food  with 
her  own  hands.  That  social  meal,  ever,  in  > 
loving  family,  the  most  joyous  interview  of  the 
day,  being  passed,  M.  Roland  entered  the  ibra- 
ry  for  his  intellectual  toil,  taking  with  him,  for 
his  silent  companion,  the  idolized  little  Eudora. 
She  amused  herself  with  her  pencil,  or  reading, 
or  other  studies,  which  her  father  and  mother 
superintended.  Madame  Roland,  in  the  mean 
time,  devoted  herself,  with  most  systematic  en- 
ergy, to  her  domestic  concerns.  She  was  a  per- 
fect housekeeper,  and  each  morning  all  the  in- 
terests  of  her  family,  from  the  cellar  to  the  gar- 
ret,  passed  under  her  eye.  She  superintended 
the  preservation  of  the  fruit,  the  storage  of  the 
wine,  the  sorting  of  the  linen,  and  those  other 
details  of  domestic  life  which  engross  the  atten- 
tion of  a  good  housewife.  The  systematio  divi- 
sion of  time,  which  seemed  to  be  an  instinctive 
principle  of  her  nature,  enabled  her  to  accom- 
plish all  this  in  two  hours.  She  had  faithful 
and  devoted  servants  to  do  the  work.  The  su- 
perintendence was  all  that  was  required.  This 
genius  to  superintend  and  be  the  head,  while 
others  contribute  the  hands,  is  not  the  most 
oommon  of  human  endowments.  Madame  Ro 


1784.]  ,        MARRIAOK.  101 

Lfenary  employments.  Ptemaant  ramble* 

I""4,  having  thus  attended  to  her  domestic  con- 
cerns, laid  aside  those  cares  for  the  remainder 
of  the  day,  and  entered  the  study  to  join  her 
husband  in  his  labors  there.  These  intellectual 
employments  ever  possessed  for  her  peculiar  at- 
tractions. The  scientific  celebrity  of  M.  Ro- 
land, and  his  political  position,  attracted  many 
visitors  to  La  Platiere ;  consequently,  they  had, 
almost  invariably,  company  to  dine.  At  the 
close  of  the  literary  labors  of  the  morning,  Ma- 
dame Roland  dressed  for  dinner,  and,  with  aU 
that  fascination  of  mind  and  manners  so  pecu- 
liarly her  own,  met  her  guests  at  the  dinner- 
table.  The  labor  of  the  day  was  then  over. 
The  repast  was  prolonged  with  social  converse. 
After  dinner,  they  walked  in  the  garden,  saun- 
*ered  through  the  vineyard,  and  looked  at  the 
innumerable  objects  of  interest  which  are  ever 
to  be  found  in  the  yard  of  a  spacious  farm. 
Madame  Roland  frequently  retired  to  the  libra- 
ry, to  write  letters  to  her  friends,  or  to  superin- 
tend the  lessons  of  Eudora.  Occasionally,  of  a 
fcne  day,  leaning  upon  her  husband's  arm,  she 
would  walk  for  several  miles,  calling  at  the  cot- 
tages of  the  peasantry,  whom  she  greatly  en- 
deared to  her  by  her  unvarying  kindness.  In 
the  evening,  after  tea,  they  again  resorted  tn 


102  MADAME  ROLAND.  {1784 

Distinguished  guest*.  Rural  pleacnm 

the  library.  Guests  of  distinguished  name  and 
influence  were  frequently  with  them,  and  the 
hours  glided  swiftly,  cheered  by  the  brilliance 
of  philosophy  and  genius.  The  journals  of  the 
day  were  read,  Madame  Roland  being  usually 
called  upon  as  reader.  When  not  thus  read- 
ing, she  usually  sat  at  her  work-table,  employ, 
ing  her  fingers  with  her  needle,  while  she  took 
a  quiet  and  unobtrusive  part  in  the  conversa- 
tion. "  This  kind  of  life,"  says  Madame  Ro- 
land, "  would  be  very  austere,  were  not  my  hus- 
band a  man  of  great  merit,  whom  I  love  with 
my  whole  heart.  Tender  friendship  and  un- 
bounded confidence  mark  every  moment  of  ex- 
istence, and  stamp  a  value  upon  all  things, 
which  nothing  without  them  would  have.  It 
is  the  life  most  favorable  to  virtue  and  happi- 
ness. I  appreciate  its  worth.  I  congratulate 
myself  on  enjoying  it ;  and  I  exert  my  best  en- 
deavors to  make  it  last."  Again  she  draws  the 
captivating  picture  of  rural  pleasures.  "  I  am 
preserving  pears,  which  will  be  delicious.  We 
are  drying  raisins  and  prunes.  We  make  our 
breakfast  upon '  wine ;  overlook  the  servants 
busy  in  the  vineyard;  repose  in  the  shady 
groves,  and  on  the  green  meadows ;  gather  wal- 
nuts from  the  trees  ;  and,  having  collected  om 


1785.]  MARRIAOE.  103 

Knowledge  of  medicine.  Kindneu  tc  &«  pewantry 

stock  of  fruit  for  the  winter,  spread  it  in  the 
garret  to  dry.  After  breakfast  this  morning, 
we  are  all  going  in  a  body  to  gather  almonds. 
Throw  off,  then,  dear  friend,  your  fetters  for  a 
while,  and  come  and  join  us  in  our  retreat 
You  will  find  here  true  friendship  and  real  sim- 
plicity of  heart." 

Madame  Roland,  among  her  other  innumer- 
able accomplishments,  had  acquired  no  little 
skill  in  the  science  of  medicine.  Situated  in  a 
region  where  the  poor  peasants  had  no  access 
to  physicians,  she  was  not  only  liberal  in  dis- 
tributing among  them  many  little  comforts, 
but,  with  the  most  self-denying  assiduity,  she 
visited  them  in  sickness,  and  prescribed  for 
their  maladies.  She  was  often  sent  for,  to  go 
a  distance  of  ten  or  twelve  miles  to  visit  the 
sick.  From  such  appeals  she  never  turned 
away.  On  Sundays,  her  court-yard  was  filled 
with  peasants,  who  had  assembled  from  all  the 
region  round,  some  as  invalids,  to  seek  relief, 
and  others  who  came  with  such  little  tokens  of 
f.heir  gratitude  as  their  poverty  enabled  them 
to  bring.  Here  appears  a  little  rosy-cheeked 
boy  with  a  basket  of  chestnuts ;  or  a  care- 
worn mother,  pale  and  thin,  but  with  a  grate- 
ful eye  presenting  to  her  benefaotrioe  a  few 
•mall,  fragrant  cheeses,  made  of  goat's  milk : 


104  MADAME    KOLAND. 


Or»dtude  of  the  pnuantry.  Fop»  *r  rlfbfe 

and  there  is  an  old  man,  hobbling  upon  crutch- 
es,  with  a  basket  of  apples  from  his  orchard. 
She  was  delighted  with  these  indications  of 
gralitude  and  sensibility  on  the  part  of  the  un- 
enlightened and  lowly  peasantry.  Her  repub- 
lican notions,  which  she  had  cherished  so  fond- 
ly in  her  early  years,  but  from  which  she  had 
somewhat  swerved  when  seeking  a  patent  of 
nobility  for  her  husband,  began  now  to  revive 
in  her  bosom  with  new  ardor.  She  was  re- 
garded as  peculiarly  the  friend  of  the  poor  and 
the  humble ;  and  at  all  the  hearth-fires  in  the 
cottages  of  that  retired  valley,  her  name  was 
Dronounced  in  tones  almost  of  adoration.  More 
and  more  Madame  Roland  and  her  husband  be- 
gan to  identify  their  interests  with  those  of  the 
poor  around  them,  and  to  plead  with  tongue 
and  pen  for  popular  rights.  Her  intercourse 
with  the  poor  led  her  to  feel  more  deeply  the 
oppression  of  laws,  framed  to  indulge  the  few 
ia  luxury,  while  the  many  were  consigned  to 
penury  and  hopeless  ignorance.  She  acquired 
boundless  faith  in  the  virtue  of  the  people,  and 
'nought  that  their  disinthrallment  would  usher 
in  a  millennium  of  unalloyed  happiness.  She 
now  saw  the  ocean  of  human  passions  reposing 
in  its  perfect  calm.  She  afterward  saw  thai 
same  ooaan  when  lashed  bv  the  tempest 


1791]  THE  NATIONAL  ASSEMBLY. 


Portentou  mattering!.  Welectued  u  bloating* 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   NATIONAL  ASSEMBLY. 

MADAME  ROLAND  was  thus  living  at 
La  Platiere,  in  the  enjoyment  of  all  that 
this  world  can  give  of  peace  and  happiness, 
when  the  first  portentous  mutterings  of  that 
terrible  moral  tempest,  the  French  Revolution, 
fell  upon  her  ears.  She  eagerly  caught  the 
sounds,  and,  believing  them  the  precursor  of  the 
most  signal  political  and  social  blessings,  rejoic- 
ed in  the  assurance  that  the  hour  was  approach- 
ing when  long-oppressed  humanity  would  re- 
assert its  rights  and  achieve  its  triumph.  Lit- 
tle did  she  dream  of  the  woes  which  in  surging 
billows  were  to  roll  over  her  country,  and  which 
were  to  ingulf  her,  and  all  whom  she  loved,  in 
their  resistless  tide.  She  dreamed — a  very  par- 
donable dream  for  a  philanthropic  lady — that 
an  ignorant  and  enslaved  people  could  be  led 
from  Egyptian  bondage  to  the  promised  land 
without  the  weary  sufferings  of  the  wilderness 
and  the  desert.  Her  faith  in  the  regenerative 
capabilities  of  human  nature  was  so  strong, 


K)«  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1791 

Rnthtuimua  of  Madame  RoUndL          Loul»  XVI.          Maria  Antoinette 

that  she  could  foresee  no  obstacles  and  no  dan- 
gers  in  the  way  of  immediate  and  universal  dis- 
franchisement  from  every  custom,  and  from  all 
laws  and  usages  which  her  judgment  disap- 
proved. Her  whole  soul  was  aroused,  and  she 
devoted  all  her  affections  and  every  energy  of 
her  mind  to  the  welfare  of  the  human  race.  It 
is  hardly  to  be  supposed,  human  nature  being 
such  as  it  is,  but  that  the  mortifications  she 
met  in  early  life  from  the  arrogance  of  those 
above  her,  and  the  difficulties  she  encountered 
in  obtaining  letters-patent  of  nobility,  exerted 
some  influence  in  animating  her  zeal.  Her  en- 
thusiastic devotion  stimulated  the  ardor  of  her 
less  excitable  spouse  ;  and  all  her  friends,  by  her 
fascinating  powers  of  eloquence  both  of  voice 
and  pen,  were  gradually  inspired  by  the  same 
intense  emotions  which  had  absorbed  her  whole 
being. 

Louis  XVI.  and  Maria  Antoinette  had  but 
recently  inherited  the  throne  of  the  Bourbons. 
Louis  was  benevolent,  but  destitute  of  the  de- 
cision of  character  requisite  to  hold  the  reins  of 
government  in  so  stormy  a  pe'riod.  Maria  An- 
toinette had  neither  culture  of  mind  nor  knowl- 
edge of  the  world.  She  was  an  amiable  but 
spoiled  child,  with  great  native  nobleness  cf 


1791.]  THE  NATIONAL  ASSEMBLY.        107 

Character  of  Maria  Antoinette.  Character  of  Lout*. 


character,  but  with  those  defects  which  are  the 
natural  and  inevitable  consequence  of  the  friv- 
olous education  she  had  received.  She  thought 
aever  of  duty  and  responsibility ;  always  and 
Mily  of  pleasure.  It  was  her  misfortune  rather 
than  her  fault,  that  the  idea  never  entered  her 
mind  that  kings  and  queens  had  aught  else  to 
do  than  to  indulge  in  luxury.  It  would  be 
hardly  possible  to  conceive  of  two  characters 
less  qualified  to  occupy  the  throne  in  stormy 
times  than  were  Louis  and  Maria.  The  peo- 
ple were  slowly,  but  with  resistless  power,  ris- 
ing against  the  abuses,  enormous  and  hoary 
with  age,  of  the  aristocracy  and  the  monarchy. 
Louis,  a  man  of  unblemished  kindness,  integ- 
rity, and  purity,  was  made  the  scape-goat  for 
the  sins  of  haughty,  oppressive,  profligate  prin- 
ces, who  for  centuries  had  trodden,  with  iron 
hoofs,  upon  the  necks  of  their  subjects.  The 
accumulated  hate  of  ages  was  poured  upon  hia 
devoted  head.  The  irresolute  monarch  had  no 
conception  of  his  position. 

The  king,  in  pursuance  of  his  system  of  con- 
ciliation, as  the  clamors  of  discontent  swelled 
louder  and  longer  from  all  parts  of  France,  con- 
vened the  National  Assembly.  This  body  con- 
iiated  of  the  nobility,  the  higher  clergy,  and  rep 


108  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1791 


M.  Roland  elected  to  the  Assembly.  Ardor  of  hit  wife 

resentatives,  chosen  by  the  people  from  all  parts 
of  France.  M.  Roland,  who  was  quite  an  idol 
with  the  populace  of  Lyons  and  its  vicinity, 
ind  who  now  was  beginning  to  lose  caste  with 
the  aristocracy,  was  chosen,  by  a  very  strong 
vote,  as  the  representative  to  the  Assembly  from 
the  city  of  Lyons.  In  that  busy  city  the  re* 
olutionary  movement  had  commenced  with 
great  power,  and  the  name  of  Roland  was  the 
rallying  point  of  the  people  now  struggling  to 
escape  from  ages  of  oppression.  M.  Roland 
spent  some  time  in  his  city  residence,  drawn 
thither  by  the  intense  interest  of  the  times,  and 
in  the  saloon  of  Madame  Roland  meetings  were 
every  evening  held  by  the  most  influential  gen- 
tlemen of  the  revolutionary  party.  Her  ardoi 
stimulated  their  zeal,  and  her  well-stored  mind 
and  fascinating  conversational  eloquence  guid- 
ed their  councils.  The  impetuous  young  men 
of  the  city  gathered  around  this  impassioned 
woman,  from  whose  lips  words  of  liberty  fell  so 
enchantingly  upon  their  ears,  and  with  cHval- 
no  devotion  surrendered  themselves  to  the  guid- 
ance of  her  mind. 

In  this  rising  conflict  between  plebeian  and 
patrician,  between  democrat  and  aristocrat,  the 
position  in  which  M.  Roland  and  wife  were 


1791.]  THE  NATIONAL  ASSEMBLY.        109 

Popularity  of  the  Rolands.  They  go  to  P«rl* 

placed,  as  most  conspicuous  and  influentia, 
members  of  the  revolutionary  party,  arrayed 
against  them,  with  daily  increasing  animosity ; 
all  the  aristocratic  community  of  Lyons.  Each 
day  their  names  were  pronounced  by  the  advo- 
cates of  reform  with  more  enthusiasm,  and  by 
their  opponents  with  deepening  hostility.  The 
applause  and  the  censure  alike  invigorated  Ma- 
dame Roland,  and  her  whole  soul  became  ab- 
sorbed in  the  one  idea  of  popular  liberty.  This 
object  became  her  passion,  and  she  devoted  her- 
self to  it  with  the  concentration  of  every  energy 
of  mind  and  heart. 

On  the  20th  of  February,  1791,  Madame  *Ro- 
*and  accompanied  her  husband  to  Paris,  as  he 
took  his  seat,  with  a  name  already  prominent, 
in  the  National  Assembly.  Five  years  before, 
she  had  left  the  metropolis  in  obscurity  and  de- 
pression. She  now  returned  with  wealth,  with 
elevated  rank,  with  brilliant  reputation,  and  ex- 
ulting in  conscious  power.  Her  persuasive  in- 
fluence was  dictating  those  measures  which 
were  driving  the  ancient  nobility  of  France 
from  their  chateaux,  and  her  vigorous  mind  was 
guiding  those  blows  before  which  the  throne  of 
the  Bourbons  trembled.  The  unblemished  and 
incorruptible  integrity  of  M.  Roland,  his  aim- 


•110  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1791 

Reception  of  the  Roland*  at  Part*.  Sitting*  of  the  AMmnbly 

plicity  of  manners  and  acknowledged  ability, 
invested  him  immediately  with  much  authority 
among  his  associates.  The  brilliance  of  his 
wife,  and  her  most  fascinating  colloquial  pow- 
ers, also  reflated  much  luster  upon  his  name. 
Madame  Roland,  with  her  glowing  zeal,  had 
just,  written  a  pamphlet  upon  the  new  order  of 
things,  in  language  so  powerful  and  impressive 
that  more  than  sixty  thousand  copies  had  been 
sold  —  an  enormous  number,  considering  the 
comparative  fewness  of  readers  at  that  time. 
She,  of  course,  was  received  with  the  most  flat- 
tering attention,  and  great  deference  was  paid 
to  her  opinions.  She  attended  daily  the  sit- 
tings of  the  Assembly,  and  listened  with  the 
ri  ,.,>>f.«t  interest  to  the  debates.  The  king  and 
queen  had  already  been  torn  from  their  palaces 
at,  Versailles,  and  were  virtually  prisoners  in 
the  Tuileries.  Many  of  the  nobles  had  fled 
from  the  perils  which  seemed  to  be  gathering 
around  them,  and  had  joined  the  army  of  emi- 
grants at  Coblentz.  A  few,  however,  of  the  no- 
bility, and  many  of  the  higher  clergy,  remain- 
ed heroically  at  their  posts,  and,  as  members  of 
the  Assembly,  made  valiant  but  unavailing  ef- 
forto  to  defend  the  ancient  prerogatives  of  the 
crown  »nd  of  ths  Chursh.  Madame  Roland 


1791.]  THE  NATIOKAL  ASSEMBLY.        Ill 

Taitee  and  principle!.  Conflict  for  power 

witnessed  with  mortification,  which  she  could 
neither  repress  nor  conceal,  the  decided  supe- 
riority of  the  court  party  in  dignity,  and  polish 
of  manners,  and  in  general  intellectual  culturej 
aver  those  of  plebeian  origin,  who  were  strug- 
gling, with  the  energy  of  an  infant  Hercules, 
for  the  overthrow  of  despotic  power.  All  her 
tastes  were  with  the  ancient  nobility  and  their 
defenders.  All  her  principles  were  with  the 
people.  And  as  she  contrasted  the  unrefined 
exterior  and  clumsy  speech  of  the  democratic 
leaders  with  the  courtly  bearing  and  elegant 
diction  of  those  who  rallied  around  the  throne, 
she  was  aroused  to  a  more  vehement  desire  for 
the  social  and  intellectual  elevation  of  those 
with  whom  she  had  cast  in  her  lot.  The  con- 
flict with  the  nobles  was  of  short  continuance. 
The  energy  of  rising  democracy  soon  vanquish- 
ed them.  Violence  took  the  place  of  law.  And 
now  the  conflict  for  power  arose  between  those 
ef  the  Republicans  who  were  more  and  those 
who  were  less  radical  in  their  plans  of  reform. 
The  most  moderate  party,  consisting  of  those 
who  would  sustain  the  throne,  but  limit  its 
powers  by  a  free  constitution,  retaining  many 
of  the  institutions  and  customs  which  antiquity 
ha  i  rendered  venerable,  was  called  the  Girond 


112  MADAME   ROLAND.  ti791 


The  OirondUU.  The  Jacobins.  Meeting!  at  Mad»  «e  Roland'* 

ist  party.  It  was  so  called  because  their  most 
prominent  leaders  were  from  the  department  of 
the  Gironde.  They  would  deprive  the  king  of 
many  of  his  prerogatives,  but  not  of  his  crown. 
They  would  take  from  him  his  despotic  power, 
but  not  his  life.  They  would  raise  the  mass  of 
the  people  to  the  enjoyment  of  liberty,  but  to 
liberty  controlled  by  vigorous  law.  Opposed  to 
them  were  the  Jacobins — far  more  radical  in 
their  views  of  reform.  They  would  overthrow 
both  throne  and  altar,  break  down  all  privileged 
orders,  confiscate  the  property  of  the  nobles, 
and  place  prince  and  beggar  on  the  footing  ol 
equality.  These  were  the  two  great  parties 
into  which  revolutionary  France  was  divided 
and  the  conflict  between  them  was  the  mosi 
fierce  and  implacable  earth  has  ever  witnessec 
M.  Roland  and  wife,  occupying  a  residence  in 
Paris,  which  was  a  convenient  place  of  rendez- 
vous, by  their  attractions  gathered  around  them 
every  evening  many  of  the  most  influential 
members  of  the  Assembly.  They  attached 
themselves,  with  all  their  zeal  and  energy, 
the  Girondists.  (Four  evenings  of  every  week, 
the  leaders  of  this  party  met  in  the  saloon  of 
Madame  Roland,  to  deliberate  respecting  their 
measures.  Among  them  there  was  «  young 


1791 J  THE  NATIONAL  ASSEMBLT.        113 

Appearance  of  Robespierre.  HU  character 

lawyer  from  the  country,  with  a  stupid  expres- 
sion of  countenance,  sallow  complexion,  and  un- 
gainly gestures,  who  had  made  himself  excess- 
ively unpopular  by  the  prosy  speeches  with 
which  he  was  ever  wearying  the  Assembly. 
He  had  often  been  floored  by  argument  and 
coughed  down  by  contempt,  but  he  seemed  alike 
insensible  to  sarcasm  and  to  insult.  Alone  in 
the  Assembly,  without  a  friend,  he  attacked  all 
parties  alike,  and  was  by  all  disregarded.  B\it 
he  possessed  an  indomitable  energy,  and  un- 
wavering fixedness  of  purpose,  a  profound  con- 
tempt for  luxury  and  wealth,  and  a  stoical  in- 
difference to  reputation  and  to  personal  indul- 
gence, which  secured  to  him  more  and  more  of 
an  ascendency,  until,  at  the  name  of  Robes- 
pierre, all  France  trembled.  This  young  man 
silent  and  moody,  appeared  with  others  in  the 
saloon  of  Madame  Roland.  She  was  struck 
with  his  singularity,  and  impressed  with  an  in- 
stinctive consciousness  of  his  peculiar  genius 
He  was  captivated  by  those  charms  of  oonver- 
sation  in  which  Madame  Roland  was  unrivaled 
Silently — for  he  had  no  conversational  powers 
— Ke  lingered  around  her  chair,  treasured  np 
her  spontaneous  tropes,  and  metaphors,  and  ab- 
Horbed  her  sentiments.  He  had  a  clear  peroep- 
18—8 


114  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1791. 

Remain*  of  the  court  party.  Influence  of  Mxfomc  Roland 

tion  of  the  state  of  the  times,  was  perhaps  • 
sincere  patriot,  and  had  no  ties  of  friendship,  no 
scruples  of  conscience,  no  instincts  of  mercy,  to 
turn  him  aside  from  any  measures  of  blood  01 
woe  which  might  accomplish  his  plans. 

Though  the  Girondists  and  the  Jacobins  were 
the  two  great  parties  now  contending  in  the  tu- 
multuous arena  of  French  revolution,  there  still 
remained  the  enfeebled  and  broken  remains  of 
the  court  party,  with  their  insulted  and  humil- 
iated king  at  their  head,  and  also  numerous 
cliques  and  minor  divisions  of  those  struggling 
for  power.  At  the  political  evening  reunions 
in  the  saloon  of  Madame  Roland,  she  was  inva- 
riably present,  not  as  a  prominent  actor  in  the 
scenes,  taking  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  sooia. 
debates,  but  as  a  quiet  and  modest  lady,  of  well- 
known  intellectual  supremacy,  whose  active 
mind  took  the  liveliest  interest  in  the  agitations 
of  the  hour.  The  influence  she  exerted  was 
the  polished,  refined,  attractive  influence  of  an 
accomplished  woman,  who  moved  in  her  own 
appropriate  sphere.  She  made  no  Amazonian 
speeches.  She'  mingled  not  with  men  in  the 
clamor  of  debate.  With  an  invisible  hand  she 
gently  and  winningly  touched  the  springs  of 
action  in  other  hearts  Wirh  feminine  ootxver- 


V. 


ROBESPIERUE 


i791.]  THE  NATIONAL  ASSEMBLY.        117 

Madame  Roland's  mode  of  action.  Her  delicacy 

aational  eloquence,  she  threw  out  sagacious  sug« 
gestions,  which  others  eagerly  adopted,  and  ad- 
vocated, and  carried  into  vigorous  execution. 
She  did  no  violence  to  that  delicacy  of  percep- 
tion which  is  woman's  tower  and  strength.  She 
moved  not  from  that  sphere  where  woman 
reigns  so  resistlessly,  and  dreamed  not  of  lay- 
ing aside  the  graceful  and  polished  weapons  of 
her  own  sex,  to  grasp  the  heavier  and  coarser 
armor  of  man,  which  no  woman  can  wield.  By 
such  an  endeavor,  one  does  but  excite  the  re 
pugnance  of  all  except  the  unfortunate  few,  who 
can  see  no  peculiar  sacredness  in  woman's  per- 
son, mind,  or  heart. 

As  the  gentlemen  assembled  in  the  retired 
parlor,  or  rather  library  and  study,  appropriated 
to  these  confidential  interviews,  Madame  Ro- 
land took  her  seat  at  a  little  work-table,  aside 
from  the  circle  where  her  husband  and  his 
friends  were  discussing  their  political  measures. 
Busy  with  her  needle  or  with  her  pen,  she  list- 
ened to  every  word  that  was  uttered,  and  often 
bit  her  lips  to  check  the  almost  irrepressible  de- 
sire to  speak  out  in  condemnation  of  some  fee- 
ble proposal  or  to  urge  some  bolder  action.  At 
the  close  of  the  evening,  when  frank  and  social 
aonverse  ensued,  her  voice  was  heard  in  low, 


118  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1791 

aobeepterre  at  Madame  Roland'i.  Horrors  of  the  Revolution. 

but  sweet  and  winning  tones,  as  one  after  an- 
other  of  the  members  were  attracted  to  her  side. 
Robespierre,  at  such  times  silent  and  thought- 
ful, was  ever  bending  over  her  chair.  He  stud- 
ied Madame  Roland  with  even  more  of  stoical 
apathy  than  another  man  would  study  a  book 
which  he  admires.  The  next  day  his  compan- 
ions would  smile  at  the  effrontery  with  which 
Robespierre  would  give  utterance,  in  the  As- 
sembly, not  only  to  the  sentiments,  but  even  to 
the  very  words  and  phrases  which  he  had  so 
carefully  garnered  from  the  exuberant  diction 
of  his  eloquent  instructress.  Occasionally,  ev- 
ery eye  would  be  riveted  upon  him,  and  every 
ear  attentive,  as  he  gave  utterance  to  some  lofty 
sentiment,  in  impassioned  language,  which  had 
been  heard  before,  in  sweeter  tones,  from  more 
persuasive  lips. 

Bui  the  Revolution,  like  a  spirit  of  destruc- 
tion, was  now  careering  onward  with  resistless 
power.  Liberty  was  becoming  lawlessness. 
Mobs  rioted  through  the  streets,  burned  cha- 
teaux, demolished  convents,  hunted,  even  to 
death,  priests  and  nobles,  sacked  the  palaces  of 
the  king,  and  defiled  the  altars  of  religion.  Th« 
Girondists,  illustrious,  eloquent,  patriotic  men, 
sincerely  desirous  of  breaking  the  arm  of 


1791.]  THE  NATIONAL  ASSEMBLY. 

tan  of  the  GirondUta.  Violence  of  the  Jacobin* 

potism  and  of  introducing  a  well-regulated  lib- 
erty, now  began  to  tremble.  They  saw  that  a 
spirit  was  evoked  which  might  trample  every 
thing  sacred  in  the  dust.  Their  opponents,  the 
Jacobins,  rallying  the  populace  around  them 
with  the  cry,  "  Kill,  burn,  destroy,"  were  for 
rushing  onward  in  this  career  of  demolition,  till 
every  vestige  of  gradations  of  rank  and  every 
restraint  of  religion  should  be  swept  from  the 
land.  The  Girondists  paused  in  deep  embar- 
rassment. They  could  not  retrace  their  stepa 
and  try  to  re-establish  the  throne.  The  endeav- 
or would  not  only  be  utterly  unavailing,  but 
would,  with  certainty,  involve  them  in  speedy 
and  retrieveless  ruin.  They  could  not  unite 
with  the  Jacobins  in  their  reckless  onset  upon 
every  thing  which  time  had  rendered  venerable, 
and  substitute  for  decency,  and  law,  and  order, 
the  capricious  volitions  of  an  insolent,  ignorant, 
and  degraded  mob.  The  only  hope  that  re- 
mained for  them  was  to  struggle  to  continue 
firm  in  the  position  which  they  had  already  as- 
sumed. It  was  the  only  hope  for  France.  The 
restoration  of  the  monarchy  was  impossible 
The  triumph  of  the  Jacobins  was  ruin.  Which 
of  these  two  parties  in  the  Assembly  shall  ar- 
ray around  its  banners  the  millions  of  tho  pop- 


MADAME   ROI.AND.  [1791 


Resolution  of  the  Girondist*.  Warning  of  Madame  Roland 

ulaee  of  France,  now  aroused  to  the  full  con- 
sciousness of  their  power?  Which  can  bid 
highest  for  the  popular* vote?  Which  can  pan- 
der most  successfully  to  the  popular  palate  T 
The  Girondists  had  talent,  and  integrity,  and 
incorruptible  patriotism.  They  foresaw  their 
peril,  but  they  resolved  to  meet  it,  and,  if  they 
must  perish,  to  perish  with  their  armor  on.  No 
one  discerned  this  danger  at  an  earlier  period 
than  Madame  Roland.  She  warned  her  friends 
of  its  approach,  even  before  they  were  conscious 
of  the  gulf  to  which  they  were  tending.  She 
urged  the  adoption  of  precautionary  measures, 
by  which  a  retreat  might  be  effected  when  their 
post  should  be  no  longer  tenable.  "  I  once 
thought,"  said  Madame  Roland,  "  that  there 
were  no  evils  worse  than  regal  despotism.  I 
now  see  that  there  are  other  calamities  vastly 
more  to  be  dreaded." 

Robespierre,  who  had  associated  with  the  Gi« 
rondists  with  rather  a  sullen  and  Ishmaelitish 
spirit,  holding  himself  in  readiness  to  go  here  or 
there,  as  events  might  indicate  to  be  politic,  le- 
gan  now  to  incline  toward  the  more  popular 
party,  of  which  he  subsequently  became  the  in- 
spiring demon.  Though  he  was  daily  attract* 
ing  more  attention,  he  had  not  yet  risen  to  pop- 


1791. J  THE  NATIONAL  ASSEMBLY.        121 

Banger  of  Robespierre.  He  1*  concealed  by  Madame  Roland 

ularity.  On  one  occasion,  being  accused  of  ad- 
vocating some  unpopular  measure,  the  clamors 
of  the  multitude  were  raised  against  him,  and 
70 ws  of  vengeance  were  utteied,  loud  and  deep, 
through  the  streets  of  Paris.  His  enemies  in 
the  Assembly  took  advantage  of  this  to  bring 
an  act  of  accusation  against  him,  which  would 
relieve  them  of  his  presence  by  the  decisive  en- 
ergy of  the  ax  of  the  guillotine.  Robespierre's 
danger  was  most  imminent,  and  he  was  obliged 
to  conceal  himself.  Madame  Roland,  inspired 
by  those  courageous  impulses  which  ever  enno- 
bled her,  went  at  midnight,  accompanied  by  her 
husband,  to  his  retreat,  to  invite  him  to  a  moro 
secure  asylum  in  their  own  house.  Madame 
Roland  then  hastened  to  a  very  influential 
friend,  M.  Busot,  allowing  no  weariness  to  in- 
terrupt her  philanthropy,  and  entreated  liim  to 
hasten  immediately  and  endeavor  to  exculpate 
Robespierre,  before  an  act  of  accusation  should 
be  issued  against  him.  M.  Busot  hesitated,  but, 
unable  to  resist  the  earnest  appeal  of  Madame 
Roland,  replied,  "  I  will  do  all  in  my  power  to 
save  this  unfortunate  young  man,  although  I 
am  far  from  partaking  the  opinion  of  many  re- 
specting him.  He  thinks  too  much  of  himself 
to  love  liberty;  but  he  serves  it,  and  that  is 


122  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1791 


>f  Robespwrra 


enough  for  me.  I  will  defend  him."  Thus 
was  the  life  of  Robespierre  saved.  He  lived  to 
reward  his  benefactors  by  consigning  them  all 
to  prison  and  to  death.  Says  Lamartine  sub- 
imely,  "  Beneath  the  dungeons  of  the  Conoier- 
gerie,  Madame  Roland  remembered  that  night 
with  satisfaction.  If  Robespierre  recalled  it  in 
his  power,  this  memory  must  have  fallen  cold- 
er upon  his  heart  than  the  ax  of  the  headsman." 

The  powerful  influence  which  Madame  Ro- 
land was  thus  exerting  could  not  be  concealed. 
Her  husband  became  more  illustrious  through 
that  brilliance  she  was  ever  anxious  to  reflect 
upon  him.  She  appeared  to  have  no  ambition 
for  personal  renown.  She  sought  only  to  ele- 
vate the  position  and  expand  the  celebrity  of 
her  companion.  It  was  whispered  from  ear  to 
ear,  and  now  and  then  openly  asserted  in  the 
Assembly,  that  the  bold  and  decisive  measures 
of  the  Girondists  received  their  impulse  from 
the  youthful  and  lovely  wife  of  M.  Roland. 

In  September,  1791,  the  Assembly  was  iis- 
ftdved,  and  M.  and  Madame  Roland  returned  to 
the  rural  quiet  of  La  Platiere.  But  in  pruning 
the  vines,  and  feeding  the  poultry,  and  cultivat- 
ing the  flowers  which  so  peacefully  bloomed  in 
their  garden,  they  could  not  forget  the  exciting 


1.791.]  THE  NATIONAL  ASSEMBLY.        123 

The  Roland*  again  at  La  Flattens.  They  return  to  PmrU 

scenes  through  which  they  had  passed,  and  the 
still  more  exciting  scenes  which  they  foresaw 
were  to  come.  She  kept  up  a  constant  corre- 
spondence with  Robespierre  and  Busot,.  and  fur- 
nished  many  ">ery  able  articles  for  a  widely-cir- 
culated journal,  established  by  the  Girondists 
for  the  advocacy  of  their  political  views.  The 
question  now  arose  between  herself  and  her 
husband  whether  they  should  relinquish  the 
agitations  and  the  perils  of  a  political  life  in 
these  stormy  times,  and  cloister  themselves  in 
rural  seclusion,  in  the  calm  luxury  of  literary 
and  scientific  enterprise,  or  launch  forth  again 
upon  the  storm-swept  ocean  of  revolution  ana 
anarchy.  Few  who  understand  the  human 
heart  will  doubt  of  the  decision  to  which  they 
came.  The  chickens  were  left  in  the  yard,  the 
rabbits  in  the  warren,  and  the  flowers  were 
abandoned  to  bloom  in  solitude  ;  and  before  the 
snows  of  December  had  whitened  the  hills,  they 
were  again  installed  hi  tumultuous  Paris.  A 
new  Assembly  had  just  been  convened,  from 
which  all  the  members  of  the  one  but  recently 
dissolved  were  by  law  excluded.  Their  friends 
weie  rapidly  assembling  in  Paris  from  their 
summer  retreats,  and  influential  men,  from  aU 
part**  of  the  empire,  wnr.-  leathering  in  the  me- 


124  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1791 

Plot*  and  counterplots  Political  maneurering 

tropolis,  to  watch  the  progress  of  affairs.  Clubs 
were  formed  to  discuss  the  great  questions  of 
the  day,  to  mold  public  opinion,  and  to  overawe 
the  Assembly.  It  was  a  period  of  darkness  and 
of  gloom ;  but  there  is  something  so  intoxicat- 
ing in  the  draughts  of  homage  and  power,  that 
those  who  have  once  quaffed  them  find  all  mild- 
er stimulants  stale  and  insipid.  No  sooner  were 
M.  and  Madame  Roland  established  in  their 
city  residence,  than  they  were  involved  in  al) 
the  plots  and  the  counterplots  of  the  Revolution 
M.  Roland  was  grave,  taciturn,  oracular.  He 
had  no  brilliance  of  talent  to  excite  envy.  He 
displayed  no  ostentation  in  dress,  or  equipage, 
or  manners,  to  provoke  the  desire  in  others  to 
humble  him.  His  reputation  for  stoical  virtue 
gave  a  wide  sweep  to  his  influence.  His  very 
silence  invested  him  with  a  mysterious  wisdom. 
Consequently,  no  one  feared  him  as  a  rival,  and 
he  was  freely  thrust  forward  as  the  unobjection- 
able head  of  a  party  by  all  who  hoped  through 
him  to  promote  their  own  interests.  He  was 
what  we  call  in  America  an  available  candi- 
date. Madame  Roland,  on  the  contrary,  was 
animated  and  brilliant.  Her  genius  was  uni- 
versally admired.  Her  bold  suggestions,  her 
shrewd  counsel,  her  lively  repartee,  her  capa- 


1791. J  THE  NATIONAL  ASSEMBLY.        125 

Massacres  and  conflagrations.  The  king  Insulted  and  •  prisoner 

bility  of  cutting  sarcasm,  rarely  exercised,  hei 
deep  and  impassioned  benevolence,  her  unvary- 
ing cheerfulness,  the  sincerity  and  enthusiasm 
af  her  philanthropy,  and  the  unrivaled  brilliance 
af  her  conversational  powers,  made  her  the  cen- 
ter of  a  system  around  which  the  brightest  in- 
tellects were  revolving.  Vergniaud,  Petion, 
Brissot,  and  others,  whose  names  were  then 
comparatively  unknown,  but  whose  fame  has 
since  resounded  through  the  civilized  world,  lov- 
ed to  do  her  homage. 

The  spirit  of  the  Revolution  was  still  advanc- 
ing with  gigantic  strides,  and  the  already  shat- 
tered throne  was  reeling  beneath  the  redoubled 
blows  of  the  insurgent  people.  Massacres  were 
rife  all  over  the  kingdom.  The  sky  was  night- 
ly illumined  by  conflagrations.  The  nobles 
were  abandoning  their  estates,  and  escaping 
from  perils  and  death  to  take  refuge  in  the  bo- 
som of  the  little  army  of  emigrants  at  Coblentz. 
The  king,  insulted  and  a  prisoner,  reigned  but 
in  name.  Under  these  circumstances,  Louis 
was  compelled  to  dismiss  his  ministry  and  to 
call  in  another  more  acceptable  to  the  people. 
The  king  hoped,  by  the  appointment  of  a  Re- 
publican ministry,  to  pacify  the  democratic 
«pirit.  There  was  no  other  resource  left  him 


126  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1792 


Tto  k!»f  turmnderm.  IL  Roland  Minbtor  of  the  Interior 

but  abdication.  It  was  a  bitter  cup  for  him  te 
drink.  His  proud  and  spirited  queen  declared 
that  she  would  rather  die  than  throw  herself 
into  the  arms  of  Republicans  for  protection. 
He  yielded  to  the  pressure,  dismissed  his  min- 
isters, and  surrendered  himself  to  the  Girond- 
ists for  the  appointment  of  a  new  ministry. 
The  Girondists  called  upon  M.  Roland  to  take 
the  important  post  of  Minister  of  the  Interior. 
It  was  a  perilous  position  to  fill,  but  what  dan- 
ger will  not  ambition  face?  In  the  present 
posture  of  affairs,  the  Minister  of  the  Interior 
was  the  monarch  of  France.  M.  Roland,  whose 
quiet  and  hidden  ambition  had  been  feeding 
upon  its  success,  smiled  nervously  at  the  power 
which,  thus  unsolicited,  was  passing  into  his 
hands.  Madame  Roland,  whose  all-absorbing 
passion  it  now  was  to  elevate  her  husband  to 
the  highest  summits  of  greatness,  was  gratified 
in  view  of  the  honor  and  agitated  in  view  of  the 
peril ;  but,  to  her  exalted  spirit,  the  greater  the 
danger,  the  more  heroic  the  act  "  The  bui  Jen 
is  heavy,"  she  said ;  "  but  Roland  has  a  great 
consciousness  of  his  own  powers,  and  would  de- 
rive fresh  strength  from  the  feeling  of  being  use- 
ful to  liberty  and  his  country." 

In  March,  1792,  he  entered  upon  his  arduous 


1792.)  THE  NATIONAL  ASSEMBLY.        127 

Madame  Roland  In  a  palace.  M.  Roland'*  ftnt  appearance  at  court 

and  exalted  office.  The  palace  formerly  occu- 
pied by  the  Controller  General  of  Finance,  most 
gorgeously  furnished  by  Madame  Necker  in  the 
days  of  her  glory,  was  appropriated  to  their  use. 
Madame  Roland  entered  this  splendid  establish- 
ment, and,  elevated  in  social  eminence  above 
the  most  exalted  nobles  of  France,  fulfilled  all 
the  complicated  duties  of  her  station  with  a 
grace  and  dignity  which  have  never  been  sur- 
passed. Thus  had  Jane  risen  from  that  hum- 
ble position  in  which  the  daughter  of  the  en- 
graver, in  solitude,  communed  with  her  books, 
to  be  the  mistress  of  a  palace  of  aristocratic 
grandeur,  and  the  associate  of  statesmen  and 
princes. 

When  M.  Roland  made  his  first  appearance 
at  court  as  the  minister  of  his  royal  master 
instead  of  arraying  himself  in  the  court-dress 
which  the  customs  of  the  times  required,  he  af- 
fected, in  his  costume,  the  simplicity  of  his  prin- 
ciples. He  wished  to  appear  in  his  exalted  sta- 
tion still  the  man  of  the  people.  He  had  not 
forgotten  the  impression  produced  in  France  by 
Franklin,  as  in  the  most  republican  simplicity 
of  dress  he  moved  among  the  glittering  throng 
at  Versailles.  He  accordingly  presented  him- 
«elf  at  the  Tuileries  in  a  plain  black  ooat,  with 


128  MADAME   ROLAND  [1792 

Horror  of  the  cou.tiers.  M.  Roland'i  opinion  of  the  king 

a  round  hat,  and  dusty  shoes  fastened  with  rib- 
bons  instead  of  buckles.  The  courtiers  were 
indignant.  The  king  was  highly  displeased  at 
what  he  considered  an  act  of  disrespect.  The 
master  of  ceremonies  was  in  consternation,  and 
exclaimed  with  a  look  of  horror  to  General  Da- 
muriez,  "  My  dear  sir,  he  has  not  even  buckles 
in  his  shoes!"  "Mercy  upon  us!"  exclaimed 
the  old  general,  with  the  most  laughable  expres- 
sion of  affected  gravity,  "  we  shall  then  all  go 
to  ruin  together !" 

The  king,  however,  soon  forgot  the  neglect 
of  etiquette  in  the  momentous  questions  which 
were  pressing  upon  his  attention.  He  felt  the 
''"portance  of  securing  the  confidence  and  good 
rtill  of  his  ministers,  and  he  approached  them 
with  the  utmost  affability  and  conciliation.  M. 
Roland  returned  from  his  first  interview  with 
the  monarch  quite  enchanted  with  his  excellent 
disposition  and  his  patriotic  spirit.  He  assured 
his  wife  that  the  community  had  formed  a  to- 
tally erroneous  estimate  of  the  king ;  that  he 
was  sincerely  a  friend  to  the  reforms  which 
were  taking  place,  and  was  a  hearty  supporter 
of  the  Constitution  which  had  been  apparently 
forced  upon  him.  The  prompt  reply  of  Ma 
dame  Roland  displaced  even  more  than  he* 


1792.]  THE  NATIONAL  ASSEMBLY.        13S 

Madame  Roland'*  advice.  Her  ophilon  of  king*  and  courtu  n 

characteristic  sagacity.  "  If  Louis  is  sincerely 
a  friend  of  the  Constitution,  he  must  be  virtu- 
ous beyond  the  common  race  of  mortals.  Mis- 
trust your  own  virtue,  M.  Roland.  You  are 
nly  an  honest  countryman  wandering  amid  a 
crowd  of  courtiers  —  virtue  in  danger  amid  a 
myriad  of  vices.  They  speak  our  language  ; 
we  do  not  know  theirs.  No!  Louis  can  not 
love  the  chains  that  fetter  him.  He  may  feign 
to  caress  them.  He  thinks  only  of  how  he  can 
spurn  them.  Fallen  greatness  loves  not  its  de- 
cadence. No  man  likes  his  humiliation.  Trust 
in  human  nature  ;  that  never  deceives.  Dis- 
trust courts.  Your  virtue  is  too  elevated  to  see 
the  snares  which  courtiers  spread  beneath  youi 


18—9 


130  MADAME  ROLAND,  [1792. 

Parlor  of  Madame  Roland.  Vacillation  of  Looim. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  MINISTRY  OP  M.  ROLAND. 

TT^ROM  all  the  spacious  apartments  of  tne 
•*-  magnificent  mansion  allotted  as  the  resi- 
dence of  the  Minister  of  the  Interior,  Madame 
Roland  selected  a  small  and  retired  parlor,  which 
she  had  furnished  with  every  attraction  as  a  li- 
brary and  a  study.  This  was  her  much-loved 
retreat,  and  here  M.  Roland,  in  the  presence  of 
his  wife,  was  accustomed  to  see  his  friends  in 
all  their  confidential  intercourse.  Thus  she 
was  not  only  made  acquainted  with  all  the  im- 
portant occurrences  of  the  times,  but  she  form- 
ed an  intimate  personal  acquaintance  with  the 
leading  actors  in  these  eventful  movements. 
Louis,  adopting  a  vacillating  policy,  in  his  en- 
deavors to  conciliate  each  party  was  losing  the 
confidence  and  the  support  of  all.  The  Girond- 
ists, foreseeing  the  danger  which  threatened  the 
kitg  and  all  the  institutions  of  government, 
were  anxious  that  he  should  be  persuaded  to 
abandon  these  mistaken  measures,  and  firmly 
nd  openly  advocate  the  reforms  which  had  al 


1792.]     MINISTRY  OF  M.  ROLAND.          131 

Measure*  of  the  Girondists.  Their  perilous  position. 

ready  taken  place.  They  felt  that  if  he  would 
energetically  take  his  stand  in  the  position 
which  the  Girondists  had  assumed,  there  WAS 
still  safety  for  himself  and  the  nation.  The 
Girondists,  at  this  time,  wished  to  sustain  the 
throne,  but  they  wished  to  limit  its  power  and 
surround  it  by  the  institutions  of  republican  lib- 
erty. The  king,  animated  by  his  far  more 
strong-minded,  energetic,  and  ambitious  queen, 
was  slowly  and  reluctantly  surrendering  point 
by  point  as  the  pressure  of  the  multitude  com- 
pelled, while  he  was  continually  hoping  that 
some  change  in  affairs  would  enable  him  to  re- 
gain his  lost  power. 

The  position  of  the  Girondists  began  to  be 
more  and  more  perilous.  The  army  of  emi- 
grant nobles  at  Coblentz,  within  the  dominions 
of  the  King  of  Prussia,  was  rapidly  increasing 
in  numbers.  Frederic  was  threatening,  in  al- 
liance with  all  the  most  powerful  crowns  of  Eu- 
rope, to  march  with  a  resistless  army  to  Paris, 
reinstate  the  king  in  his  lost  authority,  and  take 
signal  vengeance  upon  the  leaders  3f  the  Revo- 
lution. There  were  hundreds  of  thousands  hi 
France,  the  most  illustrious  in  rank  and  opu- 
lence, who  would  join  such  an  army.  The  Ro- 
man Catholic  priesthood,  to  a  man,  would  lend 


132  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1792 

Ramon  of  taYMdna.  Thf  rabbi* 

to  it  the  influence  of  all  its  spiritual  authority 
Paris  was  every  hour  agitated  by  rumors  of  the 
approach  of  the  armies  of  invasion.  The  peo- 
ple all  believed  that  Louis  wished  to  escape 
from  Paris  and  head  that  army.  The  king  was 
spiritless,  undecided,  and  ever  vacillating  in  his 
plans.  Maria  Antoinette  would  have  gone 
through  fire  and  blood  to  have  rallied  those 
hosts  around  her  banner.  Such  was  the  posi- 
tion of  the  Girondists  in  reference  to  the  Royal* 
iste.  They  were  ready  to  adopt  the  most  ener- 
getic measures  to  repel  the  interference  of  this 
armed  confederacy. 

On  the  other  hand,  they  saw  another  party, 
noisy,  turbulent,  sanguinary,  rising  beneath 
them,  and  threatening  with  destruction  all  con- 
nected in  any  way  with  the  execrated  throne. 
This  new  party,  now  emerging  from  the  lowest 
strata  of  society,  upheaving  all  its  superincum- 
bent masses,  consisted  of  the  wan,  the  starving, 
the  haggard,  the  reckless.  All  of  the  abandon- 
ed and  the  dissolute  rallied  beneath  its  banners 
They  called  themselves  the  people.  Amazon!, 
an  fish- women ;  overgrown  ooys,  frith  the  faces 
and  the  hearts  of  demons ;  men  and  girls,  who 
had  no  homes  but  the  kennels  of  Paris,  in 
countless  thousands  swelled  its  demonstrations 


1792.]     MINISTRY  OP  M.  ROLAND.         133 

Danger  of  the  Girondists.  Their  demand  of  the  king 

af  power,  whenever  it  pleased  its  leaders  to  call 
them  out.     This  was  the  Jacobin  party. 

The  Girondists  trembled  before  this  myste- 
rious apparition  now  looming  up  before  them, 
and  clamoring  for  the  overthrow  of  all  human 
distinctions.  The  crown  had  been  struck  from 
the  head  of  the  king,  and  was  snatched  at  by 
the  most  menial  and  degraded  of  his  subjects. 
The  Girondists,  through  Madame  Roland,  urg- 
ed the  Minister  of  the  Interior  that  he  should 
demand  of  the  king  an  immediate  proclamation 
of  war  against  the  emigrants  and  their  support- 
ers, and  that  he  should  also  issue  a  decree 
against  the  Catholic  clergy  who  would  not  sup- 
port the  measures  of  the  Revolution.  It  was, 
indeed,  a  bitter  draught  for  the  king  to  drink. 
Louis  declared  that  he  would  rather  die  than 
sign  such  a  decree.  The  pressure  of  the  popu- 
lace was  so  tremendous,  displayed  in  mobs,  and 
conflagrations,  and  massacres,  that  these  deci- 
sive measures  seemed  absolutely  indispensable 
for  the  preservation  of  the  Girondist  party  and 
the  safety  of  the  king.  M.  Roland  was  urged 
to  present  to  the  throne  a  most  earnest  letter 
of  expostulation  and  advice.  Madame  Roland 
gat  down  at  her  desk  and  wrote  the  letter  for 
her  husband.  It  was  expressed  in  that  glowing 


134  MADAME   ROLAND  \1792 


Letter  to  the  king.  Iti  character 

and  impassioned  style  so  eminently  at  her  com- 
mand. Its  fervid  eloquence  was  inspired  by 
the  foresight  she  had  of  impending  perils.  M. 
Roland,  impressed  by  its  eloquence,  yet  almost 
trembling  in  view  of  its  boldness  and  its  truths, 
presented  the  letter  to  the  king  Its  last  para- 
graphs will  give  one  some  idea  of  its  character. 

"  Love,  serve  the  Revolution,  and  the  people 
will  love  it  and  serve  it  in  you.  Deposed  priests 
agitate  the  provinces.  Ratify  the  measures  to 
extirpate  their  fanaticism.  Paris  trembles  in 
view  of  its  danger.  Surround  its  walls  with  an 
army  of  defense.  Delay  longer,  and  you  will 
be  deemed  a  conspirator  and  an  accomplice 
Just  Heaven !  hast  thou  stricken  kings  with 
blindness  ?  I  know  that  truth  is  rarely  wel- 
comed at  the  foot  of  thrones.  I  know,  too,  that 
the  withholding  of  truth  from  kings  renders 
revolutions  so  often  necessary.  As  a  citizen,  a 
minister,  I  owe  truth  to  tne  king,  and  nothing 
shall  prevent  me  from  making  it  reach  hie 
ear." 

The  advice  contained  in  this  letter  was  mast 
unpalatable  to  the  enfeebled  monarch.  The 
adoption  of  the  course  it  recommended  was  ap- 
parently his  only  chance  of  refuge  from  certain 
destruction.  We  must  respect  the  magnanim- 


1792.]     MINISTRY  OP  M.  ROLAND.         135 

Refusal  if  the  king.  DiapiMal  of  M.  Roland. 

ity  of  the  king  in  refusing  to  sign  the  decree 
against  the  firmest  friends  of  his  throne,  and 
we  must  also  respect  those  who  were  strug- 
gling against  despotic  power  for  the  establish- 
ment of  civil  and  religious  freedom.  When  we 
think  of  the  king  and  nis  suffering  family,  our 
sympathies  are  so  enlisted  in  behalf  of  their 
woes  that  we  condemn  the  letter  as  harsh  and 
unfeeling.  When  we  think  for  how  many  ages 
the  people  of  France  had  been  crushed  into  pov- 
erty and  debasement,  we  rejoice  to  hear  stern 
and  uncompromising  truth  fall  upon  the  ear  of 
royalty.  And  yet  Madame  Roland's  letter  rath- 
er excites  our  admiration  for  her  wonderful 
abilities  than  allures  us  to  her  by  developments 
of  female  loveliness.  This  celebrated  letter  was 
presented  to  the  king  on  the  llth  of  June,  1792. 
On  the  same  day  M.  Roland  received  a  letter 
from  the  king  informing  him  that  he  was  dis- 
missed from  office.  It  is  impossible  to  refrain 
from  applauding  the  king  for  this  manifestation 
of  spirit  and  self-respect.  Had  he  exhibited 
more  of  this  energy,  he  might  at  least  have  had 
the  honor  of  dying  more  gloriously  ;  tut,  as  the 
intrepid  wife  of  the  minister  dictated  the  letter 
to  the  king,  we  can  not  doubt  that  it  was  the 
Imperious  wife  of  the  king  who  diotat  ed  the  dis- 


136  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1792 

The  letter  remd  to  the  AMembly.  lu  celebrity. 

missal  in  reply.  Maria  Antoinette  and  Ma- 
dame Roland  met  as  Greek  meets  Greek. 

"Here  am  I,  dismissed  from  office,"  was  M. 
Roland's  exclamation  to  his  wife  on  his  return 
home. 

"  Present  your  letter  to  the  Assembly,  that 
the  nation  may  see  for  what  counsel  you  have 
been  dismissed,"  replied  the  undaunted  wife. 

M.  Roland  did  so.  He  was  received  as  a 
martyr  to  patriotism.  The  letter  was  read 
amid  the  loudest  applauses.  It  was  ordered  to 
be  printed,  and  circulated  by  tens  of  thousands 
through  the  eighty-three  departments  of  the 
kingdom ;  and  from  all  those  departments  there 
oame  rolling  back  upon  the  metropolis  the  eoho 
of  the  most  tumultuous  indignation  and  ap- 
plause. The  famous  letter  was  read  by  all 
France— nay ,  more,  by  all  E  urope.  Roland  w  as 
a  hero.  The  plaudits  of  the  million  fell  upon 
the  ear  of  the  defeated  minister,  while  the  exe- 
crations of  the  million  rose  more  loudly  and  om- 
inously around  the  tottering  throne.  This  b.  ow, 
•truck  by  Madame  Roland,  was  by  far  the  heav- 
ies^ the  throne  of  France  had  yet  received.  She 
who  so  loved  to  play  the  part  of  a  heroine  waa 
not  at  all  dismayed  by  defeat,  when  it  oame 
with  such  an  aggrandizement  of  power.  Upoo 


1792]     MINISTRY  OF  M.  ROLAND.         137 


increasing  Influence  of  the  Rolands.  Barbara**. 

this  wave  of  enthusiastic  popularity  Madame 
Roland  and  her  husband  retired  from  the  mag- 
nificent palace  where  they  had  dwelt  for  so  short 
a  time,  and,  with  a  little  pardonable  ostentation, 
selected  for  their  retreat  very  humble  apart- 
ments in  an  apparently  obscure  street  of  the 
agitated  metropolis.  It  was  the  retirement  of 
a  philosopher  proud  of  the  gloom  of  his  garret. 
But  M.  Roland  and  wife  were  more  powerful 
now  than  ever  before.  The  famous  letter  had 
placed  them  in  the  front  ranks  of  the  friends  of 
reform,  and  enshrined  them  in  the  hearts  of  the 
ever  fickle  populace.  Even  the  Jacobins  were 
compelled  to  swell  the  universal  voice  of  com- 
mendation. M.  Roland's  apartments  were  ever 
thronged.  All  important  plans  were  discussed 
and  shaped  by  him  and  his  wife  before  they 
were  presented  in  the  Assembly. 

There  was  a  young  statesman  then  in  Paris 
named  Barbaroux,  of  remarkable  beauty  of  per- 
son, and  of  the  richest  mental  endowments. 
The  elegance  of  his  stature  and  the  pensive 
melancholy  of  his  classic  features  invested  him 
with  a  peculiar  power  of  fascination.  Between 
him  and  Madame  Roland  there  existed  the  most 
pure,  though  the  strongest  friendship.  One  day 
he  was  sitting  with  M.  Roland  and  wife,  in  so. 


138  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1792. 

Project  of  •  republic.  Seconder  by  Hadune  Roland 

cial  conference  upon  the  desperate  troubles  of 
the  times,  when  the  dismissed  minister  said  tc 
him,  "  What  is  to  be  done  to  save  France  ? 
There  is  no  army  upon  which  we  can  rely  to 
resist  invasion.  Unless  we  can  circumvent  the 
plots  of  the  court,  all  we  have  gained  is  lost. 
In  six  weeks  the  Austrians  will  be  at  Paris. 
Have  we,  then,  labored  at  the  most  glorious  of 
revolutions  for  so  many  years,  to  see  it  over- 
thrown in  a  single  day?  If  liberty  dies  in 
France,  it  is  lost  forever  to  mankind.  All  the 
hopes  of  philosophy  are  deceived.  Prejudice 
and  tyranny  will  again  grasp  the  world.  Let 
us  prevent  this  misfortune.  If  the  armies  of 
despotism  overrun  the  north  of  France,  let  us 
retire  to  the  southern  provinces,  and  there  es- 
tablish  a  republic  of  freemen." 

The  tears  glistened  in  the  eyes  of  his  wife  a? 
the  'istened  to  this  bold  proposal,  so  heroic  in 
its  conception,  so  full  of  hazard,  and  demanding 
such  miracles  of  self-sacrifice  and  devotion. 
Madame  Roland,  who  perhaps  originally  sug- 
gested the  idea  /to  her  husband,  urged  it  with 
all  her  impassioned  energy.  Barbaroux  was 
just  the  man  to  have  his  whole  soul  inflamed 
by  an  enterprise  of  such  grandeur.  He  drew  a 
rapid  sketch  of  the  resources  and  hopes  of  lib 


MiNibTBY  OF  M.ROLAND.       139 

Barbaroux's  opinion  of  the  Rolands.        The  Girondists  desert  the  kin  j 

erty  in  the  south,  and,  taking  a  map,  traced  the 
limits  of  the  republic,  from  theDoubs,  the  Aire, 
and  the  Rhone,  to  La  Dordogne ;  and  from  the 
inaccessible  mountains  of  Auvergne,  to  Du- 
rance and  the  sea.  A  serene  joy  passed  over 
the  features  of  the  three,  thus  quietly  originat- 
ing a  plan  which  was,  with  an  earthquake's 
power,  to  make  every  throne  in  Europe  tottlO) 
and  to  convulse  Christendom  to  its  very  center 
Barbaroux  left  them  deeply  impressed  with  a 
sense  of  the  grandeur  and  the  perils  of  the  en- 
terprise, and  remarked  to  a  friend,  "  Of  all  the 
men  of  modern  times,  Roland  seems  to  me  most 
to  resemble  Cato ;  but  it  must  be  owned  that 
it  is  to  his  wife  that  his  courage  and  talents  are 
due."  Previous  to  this  hour  the  Girondists  had 
wished  to  sustain  the  throne,  and  merely  to  sur 
round  it  with  free  institutions.  They  had  tak- 
en the  government  of  England  for  their  model. 
From  this  day  the  Girondists,  freed  from  all 
obligations  to  the  king,  conspired  secretly  in 
Madame  Roland's  chamber,  and  publicly  in  the 
tribune,  for  the  entire  overthrow  of  the  mon- 
archy, and  the  establishment  of  a  republic  like 
that  of  the  United  States.  They  rivaled  the 
Jacobins  in  the  endeavor  to  see  who  could  strike 
the  heaviest  blows  against  the  throne.  It  was 


140  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1792 

Madame  Roland'*  influence  over  the  Girondist*.  Buzot  adore*  her 

now  a  struggle  between  life  and  death.  The 
triumph  of  the  invading  army  would  be  the  ut- 
ter destruction  of  all  connected  with  the  revo- 
lutionary movement.  And  thus  did  Madame 
Roland  exert  an  influence  more  powerful,  per- 
haps, than  that  of  any  other  one  mind  in  the 
demolition  of  the  Bourbon  despotism. 

Her  influence  over  the  Girondist  party  was 
such  as  no  man  ever  can  exert.  Her  conduct, 
frank  and  open-hearted,  was  irreproachable, 
ever  above  even  the  slightest  suspicion  of  indis- 
cretion. She  could  not  be  insensible  to  the 
homage,  the  admiration  of  those  she  gathered 
around  her.  Buzot  adored  Madame  Roland  aa 
the  inspiration  of  his  mind,  as  the  idol  of  his 
worship.  She  had  involuntarily  gained  thai 
entire  ascendency  over  his  whole  being  which 
made  her  the  world  to  him.  The  secret  of  this 
resistless  enchantment  was  concealed  until  her 
death  ;  it  was  then  disclosed,  and  revealed  the 
mystery  of  a  spiritual  conflict  such  as  few  can 
comprehend.  She  writes  of  Buzot,  "  Sensible, 
ardent,  melancholy,  he  seems  born  to  give  and 
share  happiness.  This  man  would  forget  the 
universe  in  the  sweetness  of  private  virtues. 
Capable  of  sublime  impulses  and  unvarying  af- 
fections, the  vulgar,  who  like  to  depreciate  what 


1792.]     MINISTRY  OF  M.  ROLAND.         141 

Madame  Roland's  opinion  of  Buzot.  Effect  ail  her  death. 

it  can  not  equal,  accuse  him  of  being  a  dream- 
er. Of  sweet  countenance,  elegant  figure,  there 
is  always  in  his  attire  that  care,  neatness,  and 
propriety  which  announce  the  respect  of  self  as 
well  as  of  others.  While  the  dregs  of  the  na- 
tion elevate  the  flatterers  and  corrupters  of  the 
people  to  station  —  while  cut-throats  swear, 
drink,  and  clothe  themselves  in  rags,  in  ordei 
to  fraternize  with  the  populace,  Buzot  possesses 
the  morality  of  Socrates,  and  maintains  the  de- 
corum of  Scipio.  So  they  pull  down  his  house, 
and  banish  him  as  they  did  Aristides.  I  am 
astonished  that  they  have  not  issued  a  decree 
that  his  name  should  be  forgotten." 

These  words  Madame  Roland  wrote  in  her 
dungeon  the  night  before  her  execution.  Bu- 
zot was  then  an  exile,  pursued  by  unrelenting 
fury,  and  concealed  in  the  caves  of  St.  Emilion. 
When  the  tidings  reached  him  of  the  death  of 
Madame  Roland,  he  fell  to  the  ground  as  if 
struck  by  lightning.  For  many  days  he  was 
in  a  state  of  phrensy,  and  was  never  again  re- 
stored  to  cheerfulness. 

Danton  now  appeared  hi  the  saloon  of  Ma- 
dame  Roland,  with  his  gigantic  statuie,  and 
shaggy  hair,  and  voice  of  thunder,  and  crouch- 
ed at  the  "eet  of  this  mistress  of  hearts,  whom 


142  MADAME  KOLAKD.  [1792 

Dinton  at  Madame  Roland's.  New  scene*  of  rlolene* 

his  sagacity  perceived  was  soon  again  to  be  the 
dispenser  of  power.  She  comprehended  at  a 
glance  his  herculean  abilities,  and  the  import- 
ant  aid  he  could  render  the  Republican  cause. 
She  wished  to  win  his  co-operation,  and  at  first 
tried  to  conciliate  him,  "  as  a  woman  would  pat 
a  lion ;"  but  soon,  convinced  of  his  heartless- 
ness  and  utter  want  of  principle,  she  spurned 
him  with  abhorrence.  He  subsequently  en- 
deavorSd,  again  and  again,  to  reinstate  himself 
in  her  favor,  but  in  vain.  Every  hour  scenes 
of  new  violence  were  being  enacted  in  Paris 
and  throughout  all  France.  Roland  was  the 
idol  of  the  nation.  The  famous  letter  was  the 
subject  of  universal  admiration.  The  outcry 
against  his  dismission  was  falling  in  thunder 
tones  on  the  ear  of  the  king.  This  act  had  fan- 
ned to  increased  intensity  those  flames  of  revo- 
lutionary phrensy  which  were  now  glaring  with 
portentous  flashes  in  every  part  of  France.  The 
people,  intoxicated  and  maddened  by  the  dis- 
covery of  their  power,  were  now  arrayed,  with 
irresistible  thirstings  for  destruction  and  blood, 
against  the  king,  the  court,  and  the  nobility. 
The  royal  family,  imprisoned  in  the  Tuileries, 
wer3  each  day  drinking  cf  the  cup  of  humilia- 
tion  to  its  lowest  dregs.  Austria  and  Prussia; 


1792.J     MINISTRT  OF  M.  ROLAND.         1431 

Outrages  of  the  mob.  Recall  of  M.  Roland 

united  with  the  emigrants  at  Coblentz,  prepar- 
ed to  march  to  Paris  to  reinstate  the  king  upon 
his  throne.  Excitement,  consternation,  phren- 
sy,  pervaded  all  hearts.  A  vast  assemblage  of 
countless  thousands  of  women,  and  boys,  and 
wan  and  starving  men,  gathered  in  the  streets 
of  Paris.  Harangues  against  the  king  and  the 
aristocrats  rendered  them  delirious  with  rage 
They  crowded  all  the  avenues  to  the  Tuileries, 
burst  through  the  gates  and  over  the  walls, 
dashed  down  the  doors  and  stove  in  the  win- 
dows, and,  with  obscene  ribaldry,  rioted  through 
all  the  apartments  sacred  to  royalty.  They 
thrust  the  dirty  red  cap  of  Jacobinism  upon  the 
head  of  the  King.  They  poured  into  the  ear  of 
the  humiliated  queen  the  most  revolting  and 
loathsome  execrations.  There  was  no  hope  for 
Louis  but  in  the  recall  of  M.  Roland.  The 
court  party  could  give  him  no  protection.  The 
Jacobins  were  upon  him  in  locust  legions.  M. 
Roland  alone  could  bring  the  Girondists,  as  a 
shield,  between  the  throne  and  the  mob.  He 
was  recalled,  and  again  moved,  in  calm  tri- 
umph, from  his  obscure  chambers  to  the  rcgai 
palace  of  the  minister.  If  Madame  Roland's 
letter  dismissed  him  from  office,  her  letter  also 
restored  him  again  with  an  enormous  aocuirm* 
iation  of  power 


144  MADAME   ROLAND.  (17*12 

Pertloui  situation  of  M.  Roland.       •  ,  HI*  wife'i  mode  of  livtnj 

His  situation  was  not  an  enviable  one.  El- 
evated as  it  was  in  dignity  and  influence,  it  was 
full  of  perplexity,  toil,  and  peril.  The  spirit  of 
revolution  was  now  rampant,  and  no  earthly 
power  could  stay  it.  It  was  inevitable  that 
those  who  would  not  recklessly  ride  upon  its 
billows  must  be  overwhelmed  by  its  resistless 
surges.  Madame  Roland  was  far  more  con- 
scious of  the  peril  than  her  husband.  With  in- 
tense emotion,  but  calmly  and  firmly,  she  look 
ed  upon  the  gathering  storm.  The  peculiarity 
of  her  character,  and  her  great  moral  courage, 
was  illustrated  by  the  mode  of  life  she  vigor- 
ously adopted.  Raised  from  obscurity  to  a  po- 
sition so  commanding,  with  rank  and  wealth 
bowing  obsequiously  around  her,  she  was  en- 
tirely undazzled,  and  resolved  that,  consecrat- 
ing all  her  energies  to  the  demands  of  the  tem- 
pestuous times,  she  would  waste  no  time  in 
fashionable  parties  and  heartless  visits.  "My 
love  of  study,"  she  said,  "  is  as  great  as  my  de- 
testation of  cards,  and  the  society  of  silly  peo* 
pie  affords  me  no  amusement."  ,Twice  a  week 
she  gave  a  dinnei;  to  the  members  of  the  minis- 
try, and  other  influential  men  in  the  political 
world,  with  whom  her  husband  wished  to  con- 
feree. The  palace  was  furnished  to  their  hand* 


1792.]     MINISTRY  OF  M.  ROLAHD.         147 


Library  of  Madame  Roland.  Moating*  ther* 

by  its  former  occupants  with  Oriental  luxury* 
Selecting  for  her  own  use,  as  before,  one  of  the 
smallest  parlors,  she  furnished  it  as  her  library. 
Here  she  lived,  engrossed  in  study,  busy  with 
her  pen,  and  taking  an  unostentatious  and  un- 
seen, but  most  active  part,  in  all  those  meas- 
ures which  were  literally  agitating  the  whole 
civilized  world.  Her  little  library  was  the  sanc- 
tuary for  all  confidential  conversation  upon 
matters  of  state.  Here  her  husband  met  his 
political  friends  to  mature  their  measures.  The 
gentlemen  gathered,  evening  after  evening, 
around  the  table  in  the  center  of  the  room,  M. 
Roland,  with  his  serene,  reflective  brow,  pre- 
siding at  their  head,  while  Madame  Roland,  at 
her  work-table  by  the  fireside,  employed  herself 
with  her  needle  or  her  pen.  Her  mind,  how- 
ever, was  absorbed  by  the  conversation  which 
was  passing.  M.  Roland,  in  fact,  in  giving  his 
own  views,  was  but  recapitulating  those  senti- 
Taents  with  which  his  mind  was  imbued  from 
previous  conference  with  his  companion. 

It  is  not  possible  that  one  endowed  with  the 
ardont  and  glowing  imagination  of  Madame 
Roland  should  not,  at  times,  feel  inwardly  the 
spirit  of  exultation  in  the  consciousness  of  this 
ra*t  power.  From  the  windows  of  her  palace 


148  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1792. 


StrUdHf  contra*.  Labor*  of  Mada 


she  looked  down  upon  the  shop  of  the  mechan 
io  where  her  infancy  was  cradled,  and  upon 
those  dusty  streets  where  she  had  walked  an 
obscure  child,  while  proud  aristocracy  swept  by 
her  in  splendor  —  that  very  aristocracy  looking 
now  imploringly  to  her  for  a  smile.  She  pos- 
sessed that  peculiar  tact,  which  enabled  her  oft- 
en to  guide  the  course  of  political  measures 
without  appearing  to  do  so.  She  was  only  anx- 
ious to  promote  the  glory  of  her  husband,  and 
was  never  more  happy  than  when  he  was  re- 
ceiving plaudits  for  works  which  she  had  per- 
formed. She  wrote  many  of  his  proclama- 
tions, his  letters,  his  state  papers,  and  with  all 
the  glowing  fervor  of  a^i  enthusiastic  woman. 
"  Without  me,"  she  writes,  "  my  husband  would 
have  been  quite  as  good  a  minister,  for  his 
knowledge,  his  activity,  his  integrity  were  all 
his  own  ;  but  with  me  he  attracted  more  at- 
tention, because  I  infused  into  his  writings  that 
mixture  of  spirit  and  gentleness,  of  authorita- 
tive reason  and  seducing  sentiment,  which  is, 
perhaps,  only  to  be  found  in  the  language  of  a 
woman  who  has  a  clear  head  and  a  feeling 
heart."  This  frank  avowal  of  just  self-appre- 
ciation is  not  vanity.  A  vain  woman  could  not 
have  won  the  love  and  homage  of  so  many  of 
the  noblest,  m^n  of  Prance. 


1792.]     MINISTRY  OF  M.  ROLAND.         149 

French  artists  at  Roma  Letter  to  the  pop* 

A  curious  circumstance  occurred  at  this  time, 
which  forcibly  and  even  ludicrously  struck  Ma- 
dame Roland's  mind,  as  she  reflected  upon  the 
wonderful  changes  of  life,  and  the  peculiar  po- 
sition which  she  now  occupied,  Some  French 
artists  had  been  imprisoned  by  the  pope  at 
Rome.  The  Executive  Council  of  France  wish- 
ed to  remonstrate  and  demand  their  release. 
Madame  Roland  sat  down  to  write  the  letter, 
severe  and  authoritative,  to  his  holiness,  threat- 
ening him  with  the  severest  vengeance  if  he 
refused  to  comply  with  the  request.  As  in  her 
little  library  she  prepared  this  communication 
to  the  head  of  the  Papal  States  and  of  the  Cath- 
olic Church,  she  paused,  with  her  pen  in  her 
hand,  and  reflected  upon  her  situation  but  a 
few  years  before  as  the  humble  daughter  of  an 
engraver.  She  recalled  to  mind  the  emotions 
of  superstitious  awe  and  adoration  with  which, 
in  the  nunnery,  she  had  regarded  his  holiness 
as  next  to  the  Deity,  and  almost  his  equal.  She 
read  over  some  of  the  imperious  passages  which 
ihe  had  now  addressed  to  the  pope  in  the  unaf- 
fected dignity  of  conscious  power,  and  the  con- 
trast was  so  striking,  and  struck  her  as  so  lu- 
dicrous, that  she  burst  into  an  uncontrollable 
paroxysm  of  laughter. 


100  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1792 


Rerenet  of  fortuns 


When  Jane  was  a  diffident  maiden  of  seven- 
teen, she  went  onoe  with  her  aunt  to  the  resi- 
dence of  a  nobleman  of  exalted  rank  and  raart 
wealth,  and  had  there  been  invited  to  dine  with 
the  servants.  The  proud  spirit  of  Jane  wa§ 
touched  to  the  quick.  With  a  burning  brow 
•he  sat  down  in  the  servants'  hall,  with  stew- 
ards, and  butlers,  and  cooks,  and  footmen,  and 
vale*  de  chambres,  and  ladies' maids  of  every  de- 
gree, all  dressed  in  tawdry  finery,  and  assum- 
ing the  most  disgusting  airs  of  self-importance. 
She  went  home  despising  in  her  heart  both 
lords  and  menials,  and  dreaming,  with  new  as- 
pirations, of  her  Roman  republic.  One  day, 
when  Madame  Roland  was  in  power,  she  had 
just  passed  from  her  splendid  dining-room, 
where  she  had  been  entertaining  the  most  dis- 
tinguished men  of  the  empire,  into  her  drawing- 
room,  when  a  gray-headed  gentleman  entered, 
and  bowing  profoundly  and  most  obsequiously 
before  her,  entreated  the  honor  of  an  introduo 
tion  to  the  Minister  of  the  Interior.  This  gen« 
tleman  was  M.,Haudry,  with  whose  servanti 
•he  had  been  invited  to  dine.  This  once  proud 
aristocrat,  who,  in  the  wreck  of  the  Revolution, 
had  lost  both  wealth  and  rank,  now  saw  Ma- 
dame Roland  elevated  as  far  above  him  as  br 


1792.]     MINISTRY  OP  M.  ROLAND,         151 

Increasing  anarchy  Busenem  of  the  Jaeobla*. 

had  formerly  been  exalted  above  her.  She  re- 
membered the  many  scenes  in  which  her  spirit 
had  been  humiliated  by  haughty  assumptions 
She  could  not  but  feel  the  triumph  to  which 
circumstances  had  borne  her,  though  magna 
nimity  restrained  its  manifestation. 

Anarchy  now  reigned  throughout  France. 
The  king  and  the  royal  family  were  imprisoned 
in  the  Temple.  The  Girondists  in  the  Legis- 
lative Assembly,  which  had  now  assumed  the 
name  of  the  National  Convention,  and  M.  Ro- 
land at  the  head  of  the  ministry,  were  strug- 
gling, with  herculean  exertions,  to  restore  the 
dominion  of  law,  and,  if  possible,  to  save  the  life 
of  the  king.  The  Jacobins,  who,  unable  to  re- 
sist the  boundless  popularity  of  M.  Roland,  had, 
for  a  time,  co-operated  with  the  Girondists,  now 
began  to  separate  themselves  again  more  and 
more  widely  from  them.  They  flattered  the 
mob.  They  encouraged  every  possible  demon- 
stration of  lawless  violence.  They  pandered  to 
the  passions  of  the  multitude  by  affecting  gross- 
neas  and  vulgarity  in  person,  and  language,  and 
manners ;  by  clamoring  for  the  division  of  prop- 
erty, and  for  the  death  of  the  king.  In  tones 
daily  increasing  in  boldness  and  efficiency,  they 
declared  the  Girondists  to  be  the  fiends  of  th« 


152  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1792 

tt«  throne  dcmollihad.      -  Cry  for  •  republic 

monarch,  and  the  enemies  of  popular  liberty 
Upon  this  tumultuous  wave  of  polluted  democ- 
racy, now  rising  with  resistless  and  crested  bil- 
low, Danton  and  Robespierre  were  riding  into 
their  terrific  power.  Humanity  shut  its  eyes 
in  view  of  the  hideous  apparition  of  wan  and 
haggard  beggary  and  crime.  The  deep  mut- 
terings  of  this  rising  storm,  which  no  earthly 
hand  might  stay,  rolled  heavily  upon  the  ear  of 
Europe.  Christendom  looked  astounded  upon 
the  spectacle  of  a  barbarian  invasion  bursting 
forth  from  the  cellars  and  garrets  of  Paris.  Op- 
pressed and  degraded  humanity  was  about  to 
take  vengeance  for  its  ages  of  accumulated 
wrongs.  The  throne  was  demolished.  The  in- 
sulted royal  family,  in  rags  and  almost  in  star- 
vation, were  in  a  dungeon.  The  universal  cry 
from  the  masses  of  the  people  was  now  for  a 
republic.  Jacobins  and  Girondists  united  in 
this  cry ;  but  the  Jacobins  accused  the  Girond- 
ists of  being  insincere,  and  of  secretly  plotting 
for  the  restoration  of  the  king. 

Madame  Roland,  in  the  name  of  her  hus- 
band, drew  up  for  the  Convention  the  plan  of  a 
republic  as  a  substitute  for  the  throne.  From 
childhood  she  had  yearned  for  a  republic,  with 
its  liberty  an  1  purity,  fascinated  by  the  ideal  of 


1792.]     MINISTRY  OF  ML  ROLAND.         153 

The  Republic.  Waning  of  M.  Roland's  power 

Roman  virtue,  from  which  her  lively  imagina- 
tion had  banished  all  human  corruption.  But 
now  that  the  throne  and  hereditary  rank  were 
virtually  abolished,  and  all  France  clamoring 
for  a  republic,  and  the  pen  in  her  hand  to  pre- 
sent to  the  Nitional  Assembly  a  Constitution 
of  popular  liberty,  her  heart  misgave  her.  Hei 
husband  was  nominally  Minister  of  the  Interior, 
but  his  power  was  gone.  The  mob  of  Paris 
had  usurped  the  place  of  king,  and  Constitution, 
and  law.  The  Jacobins  were  attaining  the  de- 
cided ascendency.  The  guillotine  was  daily 
crimsoned  with  the  blood  of  the  noblest  citizens 
of  France.  The  streets  and  the  prisons  were 
polluted  with  the  massacre  of  the  innocent. 
The  soul  of  Madame  Roland  recoiled  with  hor- 
ror at  the  scenes  she  daily  witnessed.  The  Gi- 
rondists struggled  in  vain  to  resist  the  torrent, 
but  they  were  swept  before  it.  The  time  had 
been  when  the  proclamation  of  a  republic  would 
have  filled  her  soul  with  inexpressible  joy.  Now 
she  could  see  no  gleam  of  hope  for  her  country 
The  restoration  of  the  monarchy  was  impossi- 
ble. The  substitution  of  a  republic  was  inevi- 
table. No  earthly  power  could  prevent  it.  In 
that  republic  she  saw  only  the  precursor  of  her 
ewn  ruin,  the  ruin  of  all  dear  to  her,  and  gen- 


154  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1792 

Madame  Roland's  dUguut  at  the  horror*  of  the  Rorolntlea. 

eral  anarchy.  "With  a  dejected  spirit  she  wrote 
to  a  friend,  "  We  are  tinder  the  knife  of  Robes- 
pierre and  Marat.  You  know  my  enthusiasm 
for  the  Revolution.  I  am  ashamed  of  it  now. 
It  has  been  sullied  by  monsters.  It  is  ludeous  " 


1792.]  THE  JACOBINS.  155 

Adranc*  of  the  alliei.  Hope*  of  the  kinf't  Hawk. 


CHAPTER  VJI 
MADAME  ROLAND  AND  THE  JACOBINS. 

ri^HE  Prussians  were  now  advancing  on  their 
-*-  march  to  Paris.  One  after  another  of  the 
frontier  cities  of  France  were  capitulating  to 
the  invaders  as  the  storm  of  bomb-shells,  from 
the  batteries  of  the  allied  army,  was  rained  down 
npon  their  roofs.  The  French  were  retreating 
before  their  triumphant  adversaries.  Sanguine 
hopes  sprung  up  in  the  bosoms  of  the  friends  of 
the  monarchy  that  the  artillery  of  the  Prussians 
would  soon  demolish  the  iron  doors  of  the  Tem- 
ple, where  the  king  and  the  royal  family  were 
imprisoned,  and  reinstate  the  captive  monarch 
upon  his  throne.  The  Revolutionists  were  al- 
most frantic  in  view  of  their  peril.  They  knew 
that  there  were  tens  of  thousands  in  Paris,  of 
the  most  wealthy  and  the  most  influential,  and 
hundreds  of  thousands  in  France,  who  would, 
at  the  slightest  prospect  of  success,  welcome 
the  Prussians  as  their  deliverers.  Should  the 
king  thus  prove  victorious,  the  leaders  in  the 
revolutionary  movement  had  sinned  too  deeply 


156  MADAMS  ROLAND.  [1792 

Ccuternmtion  at  Paris.  Speech  of  DtntQM. 

to  hope  for  pardon.  Death  was  their  inevitable 
doom.  Consternation  pervaded  the  metropolis. 
The  magnitude  of  this  peril  united  all  the  rev- 
olutionary  parties  for  their  common  defense. 
Even  Vergniaud,  the  most  eloquent  leader  of 
the  Girondists,  proposed  a  decree  of  death 
against  every  citizen  of  a  besieged  city  wh« 
should  speak  of  surrender. 

It  was  midnight  in  the  Assembly.  The 
most  extraordinary  and  despotic  measures  were 
adopted  by  acclamation  to  meet  the  fearful 
emergence.  "  We  must  rouse  the  whole  pop- 
ulace of  France,"  exclaimed  Danton,  in  those 
tones  which  now  began  to  thrill  so  portentously 
upon  the  ear  of  Europe,  "  and  hurl  thorn,  en 
masse,  upon  our  invaders.  There  are  traitors 
in  Paris,  ready  to  join  our  foes.  We  must  ar- 
rest them  all,  however  numerous  they  may  be. 
The  peril  is  imminent.  The  precautions  adopt- 
ed must  be  correspondingly  prompt  and  deci- 
sive. With  the  morning  sun  we  must  visit 
every  dwelling  in  Paris,  and  imprison  those 
whom  we  have  reason  to  fear  will  join  the  ene- 
mies of  the  nation,  even  though  they  be  thirty 
thousand  in  number." 

The  decree  passed  without  hesitation.  The 
gates  of  Paris  were  to  be  locked,  that  none  might 


1792.J  THE  JACOBINS.  167 

Oetpottc  meworec.  Domiciliary  rWU. 

escape.  Carriages  were  to  be  excluded  from 
the  streets.  All  citizens  were  ordered  to  be  at 
home.  The  sections,  the  tribunals,  the  clubs 
were  to  suspend  their  sittings,  that  the  public 
attention  might  not  be  distracted.  All  houses 
were  to  be  brilliantly  lighted  in  the  evening, 
that  the  search  might  be  more  effectually  con- 
ducted. Commissaries,  accompanied  by  armed 
soldiers,  were,  in  the  name  of  the  law,  to  enter 
every  dwelling.  Each  citizen  should  show  what 
arms  he  had.  If  any  thing  excited  suspicion, 
the  individual  and  his  premises  were  to  be 
searched  with  the  utmost  vigilance.  If  the 
slightest  deception  had  been  practiced,  in  deny 
ing  or  in  not  fully  confessing  any  suspicious  ap- 
pearances, the  person  was  to  be  arrested  and  im- 
prisoned. If  a  person  were  found  in  any  dwell- 
ing but  his  own,  he  was  to  be  imprisoned  as  un- 
der suspicion.  Guards  were  to  be  placed  in  all 
unoccupied  houses.  A  double  cordon  of  soldiers 
were  stationed  around  the  walls,  to  arrest  all 
who  should  attempt  to  escape.  Armed  boats 
floated  upon  the  Seine,  at  the  two  extremities 
of  Paris,  that  every  possible  passage  of  escape 
might  be  closed.  Gardens,  groves,  promenades, 
ill  were  to  be  searched. 

With  so  much  energy  was  this  work  conduct- 


158  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1792 

Opeclajofthee»ta«,mb«.  Terror  «f  th«  p*opl« 

ed,  that  that  very  night  a  body  of  workmen  were 
sent,  with  torches  and  suitable  tools,  to  open  an 
access  to  the  subterranean  burial-grounds  ex- 
tending  under  a  portion  of  Paris,  that  a  speedy 
disposal  might  be  made  of  the  anticipated  mul- 
titude of  dead  bodies.  The  decree,  conveying 
terror  to  ten  thousand  bosoms,  spread  with  the 
rapidity  of  lightning  through  the  streets  and  the 
dwellings  of  Paris.  Every  one  who  had  ex 
pressed  a  sentiment  of  loyalty ;  every  one  who 
had  a  friend  who  was  an  emigrant  or  a  loyalist ; 
every  one  who  had  uttered  a  word  of  censure 
ii  reference  to  the  sanguinary  atrocities  of  the 
Revolution ;  every  one  who  inherited  an  illustri- 
ous name,  or  who  had  an  unfriendly  neighbor 
or  an  inimical  servant,  trembled  at  the  swift 
approach  of  the  impending  doom. 

Bands  of  men,  armed  with  pikes,  brought 
into  power  from  the  dregs  of  society,  insolent, 
merciless,  and  resistless,  accompanied  by  mar- 
tial music,  traversed  the  streets  in  all  direc- 
tions. As  the  commissaries  knocked  at  a  door, 
the  family  within  were  pale  and  paralyzed  with 
terror.  The  brutal  inquisitors  appeared  to  de- 
light in  the  anguish  which  their  stern  office  em 
torted,  and  the  more  refined  the  family  in  cul- 
ture or  the  more  elevated  in  rank,  the  more  se» 


1792.]  THE  JACOBIKB.  159 

Scenes  of  terror.  Vain  attempts  at  concealment 

verely  did  vulgarity  in  power  trample  them  in 
the  dust  of  humiliation.  They  took  with  them 
workmen  acquainted  with  all  possible  modes 
of  concealment.  They  broke  locks,  burst  in 
panels,  out  open  beds  and  mattresses,  tore  up 
floors,  sounded  wells,  explored  garrets  and  cel- 
lars for  secret  doors  and  vaults,  and  could  they 
find  in  any  house  an  individual  Whom  affection 
or  hospitality  had  sheltered,  a  rusty  gun,  an 
old  picture  of  any  member  of  the  royal  family, 
a  button  with  the  royal  arms,  a  letter  from  a 
suspected  person,  or  containing  a  sentiment 
against  the  "  Reign  of  Terror,"  the  father  was 
instantly  and  rudely  torn  from  his  home,  his 
wife,  his  children,  and  hurried  with  ignomini- 
ous violence,  as  a  traitor  unfit  to  live,  through 
the  streets,  to  the  prison.  It  was  a  night  of 
woe  in  Paris. 

The  friends  of  the  monarchy  soon  found  all 
efforts  at  concealment  unavailing.  They  had 
at  first  crept  into  chimneys,  from  which  they 
were  soon  smoked  out.  They  had  concealed 
themselves  behind  tapestry.  But  pikes  and  bay- 
onet* were  with  derision  thrust  through  their 
oodies.  They  had  burrowed  in  holes  in  the  cel- 
lars, and  endeavored  to  blind  the  eye  of  pursuit 
oy  coverings  of  barrels,  or  lumber,  or  wood,  of 


160  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1792 

Humbert  arrested.  The  prierth 

coal.  But  fee  stratagems  of  affection  were 
equally  matched  by  the  sagacity  of  revolution- 
ary phrensy,  and  the  doomed  were  dragged  to 
light.  Many  of  the  Royalists  had  fled  to  the 
hospitals,  where,  in  the  wards  of  infection,  they 
shared  tho  beds  of  the  dead  and  the  dying.  But 
even  there  they  were  followed  and  arrested. 
The  domiciliary  visits  were  continued  for  three 
days.  "  The  whole  city  was  like  a  prisoner, 
whose  limbs  are  held  while  he  is  searched 
and  fettered."  Ten  thousand  suspected  per- 
sons were  seized  and  committed  to  the  prisons. 
Many  were  massacred  in  their  dwellings  or  in 
the  streets.  Some  were  subsequently  libera- 
ted, as  having  been  unjustly  arrested. 

Thirty  priests  were  dragged  into  a  room  at 
the  Hotel  de  Ville.  Five  coaches,  each  con- 
taining six  of  the  obnoxious  prisoners,  started 
to  convey  thorn  to  the  prison  of  the  Abbaye. 
A  countless  mob  gathered  around  them  as  an 
alarm-gun  gave  the  signal  for  the  coaches  to 
proceed  on  their  way.  The  windows  were  open 
that  the  populace  might  see  those  whom  tbey 
deemed  traitors  to  their  country,  and  whrra 
they  believed  to  be  ready  to  join  the  army  of 
invasion,  now  so  triumphantly  approaching 
Every  moment  the  mob  increased  in  density, 


1792.J  THE  JACOBIMS.  161 

A  human  fiend.  Butchery  of  the  priest*, 

and  with  difficulty  the  coaches  wormed  their 
way  through  the  tumultuous  gatherings.  Oaths 
and  execrations  rose  on  every  side.  Gesture* 
and  threats  of  violence  were  fearfully  increas- 
ing, when  a  vast  multitude  of  men,  and  women, 
and  boys  came  roaring  down  a  cross-street,  and 
so  completely  blocked  up  the  way  that  a  peace- 
ful passage  was  impossible.  The  carriages  stop- 
ped. A  man  with  his  shirt-sleeves  rolled  up  to 
the  elbows,  and  a  glittering  saber  in  his  hand, 
forced  his  way  through  the  escort,  and,  deliber 
ately  standing  upon  the  steps  of  one  of  the  coach 
es,  clinging  with  one  hand  to  the  door,  plunged 
again,  and  again,  and  again  his  saber  into  the 
bodies  of  the  priests,  wherever  chance  might  di- 
rect it.  He  drew  it  out  reeking  with  blood, 
and  waved  it  before  the  people.  A  hideous  yell 
of  applause  rose  from  the  multitude,  and  again 
he  plunged  his  saber  into  the  carriage.  The  as- 
sassin then  passed  to  the  next  coach,  and  again 
enacted  the  same  act  of  horrid  butchery  upon  the 
(struggling  priests  crowded  into  the  carriages, 
with  no  shield  and  with  no  escape.  Thus  he 
went,  from  one  to  the  other,  through  the  whole 
line  of  coaches,  while  the  armed  escort  looked 
on  with  derisive  laughter,  and  shouts  of  fiend- 

Vsh  exultation  rose  from  the  phrensiod  multi- 
is— n 


163  MADAME    ROLAND.  {179* 


ArrlYftl  at  the  prUon. 


tude.  The  mounted  troops  slowly  forced  open 
a  passage  for  the  carriages,  and  they  moved 
along,  marking  their  passage  by  the  streams  of 
bvood  which  dripped,  from  their  dead  and  dying 
inmates,  upon  the  pavements.  When  they  ar- 
rived at  the  prison,  eight  dead  bodies  were  drag- 
ged from  the  floor  of  the  vehicles,  and  many  of 
those  not  dead  were  horridly  mutilated  and  clot- 
ted with  gore.  The  wretched  victims  precipi- 
tated themselves  with  the  utmost  consternation 
into  the  prison,  as  a  retreat  from  the  billows  of 
rage  surging  and  roaring  around  them. 

But  the  scene  within  was  still  more  terrible 
than  that  without.  In  the  spacious  hall  open- 
ing into  the  court-yard  of  the  prison  there  was 
a  table,  around  which  sat  twelve  men.  Their 
brawny  limbs,  and  coarse  and  brutal  coun- 
tenances, proclaimed  them  familiar  with  de- 
bauch and  blood.  Their  attire  was  that  of  the 
lowest  class  in  society,  with  woolen  caps  on 
their  heads,  shirt  sleeves  rolled  up,  unembar- 
rassed by  either  vest  or  coat,  and  butchers' 
aprons  bound  around  them.  At  the  head  of 
the  table  sat  Maillard,  at  that  time  the  idol  of 
the  blood-thirsty  mob  of  Paris.  These  men 
composed  a  self-constituted  tribunal  to  award 
life  or  instant  death  to  those  brought  before 


1792.J  THE  JACOBINS.  163 

M MMcro  la  the  priaoni.  Ftendlah  orgle* 

them.  First  appeared  one  hundred  and  fifty 
Swiss  officers  and  soldiers  who  had  been  in  the 
employ  of  the  king.  They  were  brought  en 
masse  before  the  tribunal.  "  You  have  assas- 
sinated the  people,"  said  Maillard,  "  and  they 
demand  vengeance."  The  door  was  open.  The 
assassins  in  the  court-yard,  with  weapons  reek- 
ing  with  blood,  were  howling  for  their  prey. 
The  soldiers  were  driven  into  the  yard,  and  they 
foil  beneath  the  blows  of  bayonets,  sabers,  and 
clubs,  and  their  gory  bodies  were  piled  up,  a 
hideous  mound,  in  the  corners  of  the  court.  The 
priests,  without  delay,  met  with  the  same  fate. 
A  moment  sufficed  for  trial,  and  verdict,  and 
execution.  Night  came.  Brandy  and  excite- 
ment had  roused  the  demon  in  the  human 
heart.  Life  was  a  plaything,  murder  a  pas- 
time.  Torches  were  lighted,  refreshments  in- 
troduced, songs  of  mirth  and  joviality  rose  upon 
the  night  air,  and  still  the  horrid  carnage  con- 
tinued unabated.  Now  and  then,  from  caprice, 
one  was  liberated;  but  the  innocent  and  the 
guilty  fell  alike.  Suspicion  was  crime.  An 
illustrious  name  was  guilt,  There  was  no  time 
for  defense.  A  frown  from  the  judge  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  blow  from  the  assassin.  A  similar 
•cone  was  transpiring  in  all  the  orisons  of  Par- 


164  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1792 

female  fpecteton.  Character  of  the  rlcttmt 

is.  Carts  were  continually  arriving  to  remove 
the  dead  bodies,  which  accumulated  much  fast- 
er than  they  could  be  borne  away.  The  court- 
yards became  wet  and  slippery  with  blood. 
Straw  was  brought  in  and  strewn  thickly  ovei 
the  stones,  and  benches  were  placed  against  the 
walls  to  accommodate  those  women  who  wish- 
ed to  gaze  upon  the  butchery.  The  benches 
were  immediately  filled  with  females,  exulting 
in  the  death  of  all  whom  they  deemed  tainted 
with  aristocracy,  and  rejoicing  to  see  the  ex- 
alted and  the  refined  falling  beneath  the  clubs 
of  the  ragged  and  the  degraded.  The  murder- 
ers made  use  of  the  bodies  of  the  dead  for  seats, 
upon  which  they  drank  their  brandy  mingled 
with  gunpowder,  and  smoked  their  pipes.  In 
the  nine  prisons  of  Paris  these  horrors  contin- 
ued unabated  till  they  were  emptied  of  their 
victims.  Men  most  illustrious  in  philanthropy, 
/ank,  and  virtue,  were  brained  with  clubs  by 
overgrown  boys,  who  accompanied  their  blows 
with  fiendish  laughter.  Ladies  of  the  highest 
accomplishments,  of  exalted  beauty  and  of  spot- 
less purity,  were  hacked  in  pieces  by  the  low- 
est wretches  who  had  crawled  from  the  dens  of 
pollution,  and  their  dismembered  limbs  were 
borne  on  the  points  of  pikes  in  derision  through 


1792.J  THE  JACOBINS.  163 


The  Blcetre.  Mwaben  oMMMrecd 

the  streets  of  the  metropolis.  Children,  even, 
were  involved  in  this  blind  slaughter.  They 
were  called  the  cubs  of  aristocracy. 

We  can  not  enter  more  minutely  into  the 
details  of  these  sickening  scenes,  for  the  soul 
turns  from  them  weary  of  life ;  and  yet  thus 
far  we  must  go,  for  it  is  important  that  all  eyes 
should  read  this  dreadful  yet  instructive  lesson 
—that  all  may  know  that  there  is  no  despotism 
so  dreadful  as  the  despotism  of  anarchy — that 
there  are  no  laws  more  to  be  abhorred  than  the 
absence  of  all  law. 

In  the  prison  of  the  Bioetre  there  were  three 
thousand  five  hundred  captives.  The  ruffians 
forced  the  gates,  drove  in  the  dungeon  doors 
with  cannon,  and  for  five  days  and  five  nights 
continued  the  slaughter.  The  phrensy  of  the 
intoxicated  mob  increased  each  day,  and  hordes 
came  pouring  out  from  all  the  foul  dens  of  pol- 
lution greedy  for  carnage.  The  fevered  thirst 
for  blood  was  inextinguishable.  No  tongue  can 
now  tell  the  number  of  the  victims.  The  man- 
gled  bodies  were  hurried  to  the  catacombs,  and 
thrown  into  an  indiscriminate  heap  of  corrup- 
tion. By  many  it  is  estimated  that  more  than 
ten  thousand  fell  during  these  massacres.  Tho 
tidings  of  these  outrages  spread  through  all  the 


166  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1792 

Qirli  Mnt  to  the  gufflotina.  Thoir  heroUm 

provinces  of  France,  and  stimulated  to  similai 
atrocities  the  mob  in  every  city.  At  Orleans 
the  houses  of  merchants  were  sacked,  the  mer- 
chants and  others  of  wealth  or  high  standing 
massacred,  while  some  who  had  offered  resist- 
ance were  burned  at  slow  fires. 

In  one  town,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Prussian 
army,  some  Loyalist  gentlemen,  sanguine  in 
view  of  the  success  of  their  friends,  got  up  an 
entertainment  in  honor  of  their  victories.  At 
this  entertainment  their  daughters  danced.  The* 
young  ladies  were  all  arrested,  fourteen  in  num- 
ber, and  taken  in  a  cart  to  the  guillotine. 
These  young  and  beautiful  girls,  all  between 
the  ages  of  fourteen  and  eighteen,  and  from  the 
most  refined  and  opulent  families,  were  behead- 
ed. The  group  of  youth  and  innocence  stood 
clustered  at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold,  while,  one 
by  one,  their  companions  ascended,  were  bound 
to  the  plank,  the  ax  fell,  and  their  heads  drop- 
ped into  the  basket.  It  seems  that  there  must 
have  been  some  supernatural  power  of  support 
to  have  sustained  children  under  so  awful  an 
ordeal.  There  were  no  faintings,  no  loud  lam* 
entations,  no  shrieks  of  despair.  With  the  se- 
renity of  martyrs  they  met  their  fate,  each  one 
emulous  of  showing  to  her  companion*  how 
much  like  a  heroine  she  could  die. 


1792.]  THE  JACOBINS.  167 

The  assassin*  rewarded.  They  threaten  their  Instigator* 

These  scenes  were  enacted  at  the  instigation 
of  the  Jacobins.  Danton  and  Marat  urged  on 
these  merciless  measures  of  lawless  violence. 
"  We  must,"  said  they,  "  strike  terror  into  the 
hearts  of  our  foes.  It  is  oar  only  safety." 
They  sent  agents  into  the  most  degraded  quar- 
ters of  the  city  to  rouse  and  direct  the  mob. 
They  voted  abundant  supplies  to  the  wretched 
assassins  who  had  broken  into  the  prisons,  and 
involved  youth  and  age,  and  innocence  and 
guilt,  in  indiscriminate  carnage.  The  murder- 
ers, reeking  in  intoxication  and  besmeared  with 
blood,  came  in  crowds  to  the  door  of  the  mu- 
nicipality to  claim  their  reward.  "  Do  you 
think,"  said  a  brawny,  gigantic  wretch,  with 
tucked-up  sleeves,  in  the  garb  of  a  butcher,  and 
with  his  whole  person  bespattered  with  blood 
and  brains,  "  do  you  think  that  I  have  earned 
but  twenty-four  francs  to-day?  I  have  killed 
forty  aristocrats  with  my  own  hands!"  The 
money  was  soon  exhausted,  and  still  the  crowd 
of  assassins  thronged  the  committee.  Indig- 
nant that  their  claims  were  not  instantly  dis- 
charged, they  presented  their  bloody  weapons  at 
the  throats  of  their  instigators,  and  threatened 
them  with  immediate  death  if  the  money  were 
Dot  furnished.  Thus  urged,  the  committee  suo- 


168  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1792. 


Pert  of  the  CHrondUt. 


oeeded  in  paying  one  half  the  sum,  and  gave 
bonds  for  the  rest. 

M.  Roland  was  almost  frantic  in  view  of  these 
horrors,  which  he  had  no  power  to  quell.  The 
mob,  headed  by  the  Jacobins,  had  now  the  com- 
plete ascendency,  and  he  was  minister  but  in 
name.  He  urged  upon  the  Assembly  the  adop- 
tion of  immediate  and  energetic  measures  to  ar- 
rest these  execrable  deeds  of  lawless  violence. 
Many  of  the  Girondists  in  the  Assembly  gave 
vehement  but  unavailing  utterance  to  their  ex- 
ecration of  the  massacres.  Others  were  intim- 
idated by  the  weapon  which  the  Jacobins  were 
now  so  effectually  wielding  ;  for  they  knew  that 
it  might  not  be  very  difficult  so  to  direct  the 
fury  of  the  mob  as  to  turn  those  sharp  blades, 
now  dripping  with  blood,  from  the  prisons  into 
the  hall  of  Assembly,  and  upon  the  throats  of 
all  obnoxious  to  Jacobin  power.  The  Girond- 
ists trembled  in  view  of  their  danger.  They 
had  aided  in  opening  the  sluice-ways  of  a  tor- 
rent which  was  now  sweeping  every  thing  be- 
fore it.  Madame  Roland  distinctly  saw  and 
deeply  felt  the  peril  to  which  she  and  her  friends 
were  exposed.  She  knew,  and  they  all  knew, 
that  defeat  was  death.  The  great  struggle  now 
In  the  Assembly  was  for  the  popular  voioe 


1792.]  THB  JACOBINS. 


Tha  Assembly  juiroonded.  Adroitoe**  of  the  jMobtM 

The  Girondists  hoped,  though  almost  in  de- 
spair, that  it  was  not  yet  too  late  to  show  the 
people  the  horrors  of  anarchy,  and  to  rally 
around  themselves  the  multitude  to  sustain  a 
well-established  and  law-revering  republic.  The 
Jacobins  determined  to  send  their  opponents  tc 
the  scaffold,  and  by  the  aid  of  the  terrors  of  the 
mob,  now  enlisted  on  their  side,  resistlessly  to 
carry  all  their  measures.  A  hint  from  the  Jac- 
obin leaders  surrounded  the  Assembly  with  the 
hideous  howlings  of  a  haggard  concourse  of  be- 
ings just  as  merciless  and  demoniac  as  lost 
spirits.  They  exhibited  these  allies  to  the  Gi- 
-ondists  as  a  bull-dog  shows  his  teeth. 

In  speeches,  and  placards,  and  proclamations 
they  declared  the  Girondists  to  be,  in  heart,  the 
enemies  of  the  Republic.  They  accused  them 
of  hating  the  Revolution  in  consequence  of  its 
necessary  severity,  and  of  plotting  in  secret  for 
the  restoration  of  the  king.  With  great  adroit- 
ness, they  introduced  measures  which  the  Gi» 
rondists  must  either  support,  and  thus  aid  the 
Jacobins,  or  oppose,  and  increase  the  suspicion 
of  the  populace,  and  rouse  their  rage  against 
them.  The  allied  army,  with  seven  thousand 
French  emigrants  and  over  a  hundred  thousand 
highly-disciplined  troops,  under  the  most 


170  MADAME   ROLAMD.  [1792 

vdTMM  of  the  BUM.  Katoptem  and  Dantoo 

and  experienced  generals,  was  slowly  but  sure- 
ly advancing  toward  Paris,  to  release  the  king, 
replace  him  on  the  throne,  and  avenge  the  in- 
sults to  royalty.  The  booming  of  their  artil- 
lery was  heard  reverberating  among  the  hills 
of  France,  ever  drawing  nearer  and  nearer  to 
the  insurgent  metropolis,  and  sending  conster- 
nation into  all  hearts.  Under  these  circum- 
stances, the  Jacobins,  having  massacred  those 
deemed  the  friends  of  the  aristocrats,  now  gath- 
ered their  strength  to  sweep  before  them  all  their 
adversaries.  They  passed  a  decree  ordering 
every  man  in  Paris,  capable  of  bearing  arms, 
to  shoulder  his  musket  and  march  to  the  front- 
iers to  meet  the  invaders.  If  money  was  want- 
ed, it  was  only  necessary  to  send  to  the  guillo- 
tine the  aristocrat  who  possessed  it,  and  to  con- 
fiscate his  estate. 

Robespierre  and  Danton  had  now  broken  off 
all  intimacy  with  Madame  Roland  and  her 
friends.  They  no  longer  appeared  in  the  little 
library  where  the  Girondist  leaders  so  often 
met,  but,  placing  themselves  at  the  head  of  the 
unorganized  and  'tumultuous  party  now  so  rap- 
idly gaining  the  ascendency,  they  were  swept 
before  it  as  the  crest  is  borne  by  the  billow 
Madame  Roland  urged  most  strenuously  upon 


1792,]  THE  JACOBINS.  171 

Bold  measurei  proposed  by  Madame  Roland. 

her  friends  that  those  persons  in  the  Assembly, 
the  leaders  of  the  Jacobin  party,  who  had  insti- 
gated the  massacres  in  the  prisons,  should  be 
accused,  and  brought  to  trial  and  punishment. 
It  required  peculiar  boldness,  at  that  hour,  to  ac- 
cuse Robespierre  and  Danton  of  crime.  Though 
thousands  in  France  were  horror-stricken  at 
these  outrages,  the  mob,  who  now  ruled  Paris, 
would  rally  instantaneously  at  the  sound  of  the 
tocsin  for  the  protection  of  their  idols. 

Madame  Roland  was  one  evening  urging 
Vergniaud  to  take  that  heroic  and  desperate 
stand.  "  The  only  hope  for  France,"  said  she 
"is  in  the  sacredness  of  law.  This  atrocious 
carnage  causes  thousands  of  bosoms  to  thril. 
with  horror,  and  all  the  wise  and  the  good  in 
France  and  in  the  world  will  rise  to  sustain 
those  who  expose  their  own  hearts  as  a  barrier 
to  arrest  such  enormities." 

"  Of  what  avail,"  was  the  reply,  in  tones  of 
sadness,  "  can  such  exertions  be  ?  The  assas- 
sins are  supported  by  all  the  power  of  the  street. 
Such  a  conflict  must  necessarily  terminate  in 
a  street  fight.  The  cannon  are  with  our  foes. 
The  most  prominent  of  the  friends  of  order  are 
massacred.  Terror  wiL  restrain  the  rest.  W» 
•hall  only  provoke  our  own  destruction." 


172  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1792 

teclilre  itaad  taken  by  MM.  lloland  and  VergnUud. 

"Of  what  use  is  life,"  rejoins  the  intrepid 
woman,  "  if  we  must  live  in  this  base  subjec- 
tion to  a  degraded  mob  ?  Let  us  contend  foi 
the  right,  and  if  we  must  die,  let  us  rejoice  tc 
die  with  dignity  and  with  heroism." 

Though  despairing  of  success,  and  apprehen- 
sive that  their  own  doom  was  already  sealed, 
M.  Roland  and  Vergniaud,  roused  to  action  by 
this  ruling  spirit,  the  next  day  made  their  ap- 
pearance in  the  Assembly  with  the  heroic  re- 
solve to  throw  themselves  before  the  torrent 
now  rushing  so  wildly.  They  stood  there,  how- 
ever, but  the  'representatives  of  Madame  Ro- 
land, inspired  by  her  energies,  and  giving  utter- 
ance to  those  eloquent  sentiments  which  had 
burst  from  her  lips. 

The  Assembly  listened  in  silence  as  M.  Ro- 
land, in  an  energetic  discourse,  proclaimed  the 
true  principles  of  law  and  order,  and  called  upon 
the  Assembly  to  defend  its  own  dignity  against 
popular  violence,  and  to  raise  an  armed  force 
consecrated  to  the  security  of  liberty  and  jus- 
tice. Encouraged  by  these  appearances  of  re- 
turning moderation,  others  of  the  Girondist 
rose,  and,  with  great  boldness  and  vehemence, 
urged  decisive  action.  "  It  requires  some  cour^ 
ago,"  said  Kersaint,  '•  to  rise  up  here  against  a» 


1792.]  THE  JACOBIMS.  173 

The  Girondists  defeated.  Resignation  of  M.  Rolta* 

sassins,  but  it  is  time  to  erect  scaffolds  for  those 
who  provoke  assassination."  The  strife  con- 
tinued for  two  or  three  days,  with  that  intense 
ex3V,ement  which  a  conflict  for  life  or  death 
must  necessarily  engender.  The  question  be- 
tween  the  Girondist  and  the  Jacobin  was,  "  Who 
shall  lie  down  on  the  guillotine  ?"  For  some 
time  the  issue  of  the  struggle  was  uncertain. 
The  Jacobins  summoned  their  allies,  the  mob. 
They  surrounded  the  doors  and  the  windows  of 
the  Assembly,  and  with  their  howlings  sustained 
their  friends.  "  I  have  just  passed  through  the 
crowd,"  said  a  member,  "  and  have  witnessed 
its  excitement.  If  the  act  of  accusation  is  car- 
ried, many  a  head  will  lie  low  before  another 
morning  dawns."  The  Girondists  found  them- 
selves, at  the  close  of  the  struggle,  defeated,  yet 
not  so  decidedly  but  that  they  still  clung  to  hope. 
M.  Roland,  who  had  not  yet  entirely  lost,  with 
the  people,  that  popularity  which  swept  him,  on 
so  triumphant  a  billow,  again  into  the  office  of 
Minister  of  the  Interior,  now,  conscious  of  his 
utter  impotenoy,  presented  to  the  Assembly  his 
resignation  of  power  which  was  merely  nomin- 
al. Great  efforts  had  for  some  time  been  made, 
by  his  adversaries,  to  turn  the  tide  of  popular 
hatred  against  him,  and  especially  against  his 


174  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1792 

Attack*  upon  Madame  Roland.  How  recMrad  to  the  AMMkbiy 

wife,  whom  Danton  and  Robespierre  recognized 
and  proclaimed  as  the  animating  and  inspiring 
scul  of  the  Girondist  party. 

The  friends  of  Roland  urged,  with  high  enco- 
miums upon  his  character,  that  he  should  be 
invited  to  retain  his  post.  The  sentiment  of 
the  Assembly  was  wavering  in  his  favor.  Dan- 
ton,  excessively  annoyed,  arose  and  said,  with  a 
sneer,  "  I  oppose  the  invitation.  Nobody  ap- 
preciates M.  Roland  more  justly  than  myself, 
But  if  you  give  him  this  invitation,  you  must 
give  his  wife  one  also.  Every  one  knows  that 
M.  Roland  is  not  alone  in  his  department.  As 
for  myself,  in  my  department  I  am  alone  I 
have  no  wife  to  help  me." 

These  indecorous  and  malicious  allusions 
were  received  with  shouts  of  derisive  laughter 
from  the  Jacobin  benches.  The  majority,  how- 
ever, frowned  upon  Danton  with  deep  reproach- 
es for  such  an  attack  upon  a  lady.  One  of  the 
Girondists  immediately  ascended  the  tribune. 
"What  signifies  it  to  the  country,"  said  he, 
"  whether  Roland  possesses  an  intelligent  wife, 
who  inspires  him  with  her  additional  energy,  or 
whether  he  acts  from  his  own  resolution  alone  ?" 
The  defense  was  received  with  much  applause. 

The  next  day,  Roland,  as  Minister  of  the  In- 


1792.]  THI  JACOBINS  175 

Letter  from  M.  Roland.  Its  lofty  too*. 

terior,  presented  a  letter  to  the  Convention,  ex- 
pressing his  determination  to  continue  in  office. 
It  was  written  by  Madame  Roland  in  strains 
of  most  glowing  eloquence,  and  in  the  spirit  of 
the  loftiest  heroism  and  the  most  dignified  de- 
fiance. "  The  Convention  is  wise,"  said  this 
letter,  "  in  not  giving  a  solemn  invitation  to  a 
man  to  remain  in  the  ministry.  It  would  at- 
tach too  great  importance  to  a  name.  But  the 
deliberation  honors  me,  and  clearly  pronounces 
the  desire  of  the  Convention.  That  wish  sat- 
isfies me.  It  opens  to  me  the  career.  I  es- 
pouse it  with  courage.  I  remain  in  the  minis- 
try. I  remain  because  there  are  perils  to  face. 
I  am  not  blind  to  them,  but  I  brave  them  fear- 
lessly. The  salvation  of  my  country  is  the  ob- 
ject in  view.  To  that  I  devote  myself,  even  to 
death.  I  am  accused  of  wanting  courage.  Is 
no  courage  requisite  in  these  times  in  denounc- 
ing the  protectors  of  assassins  ?" 

Thus  Madame  Roland,  sheltered  in  the  se- 
olision  of  her  library,  met,  in  spirit,  in  the 
fierce  struggle  of  the  tribune,  Robespierre,  Dan- 
ton,  and  Marat.  They  knew  from  whose  shafts 
these  keen  arrows  were  shot.  The  Girondists 
knew  to  whom  they  were  indebted  for  many  of 
the  most  skillful  parries  and  retaliatory  blows. 


17ft  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1792 

Dafiton  eeekj  a  reconciliation.  Hi*  faftw, 

The  one  party  looked  to  her  almost  with  ado- 
ration ;  the  other,  with  implacable  hate.  Nev- 
er before,  probably,  in  the  history  of  the  world, 
has  a  woman  occupied  such  a  position,  and  nev- 
er by  a  woman  will  such  a  position  be  occupied 
again.  Danton  began  to  recoil  from  the  gulf 
opening  before  him,  and  wished  to  return  to  al- 
liance with  the  Girondists.  He  expressed  the 
most  profound  admiration  for  the  talents,  ener- 
gy, and  sagacity  of  Madame  Roland.  "  We 
must  act  together,"  said  he,  "  or  the  wave  of 
the  Revolution  will  overwhelm  us  all.  United, 
we  can  stem  it.  Disunited,  it  will  overpower 
u««."  Again  he  appeared  in  the  library  of  Ma- 
dame Roland,  in  a  last  interview  with  the  Gi- 
rondists. He  desired  a  coalition.  They  could 
not  agree.  Danton  insisted  that  they  must 
overlook  the  massacres,  and  give  at  least  an 
implied  t  «ent  to  their  necessity.  "  We  will 
agree  to  all,"  said  the  Girondist  ',  "  except  im- 
punity to  murderers  and  their  accomplices." 
The  conference  was  broken  up.  Danton,  irri- 
tated, withdrew*  and  placed  himself  by  the  side 
of  Robespierre.  Again  the  Jacobins  and  the 
Girondists  prepared  for  the  renewal  of  their 
struggle.  It  was  not  a  struggle  for  power 
merely,  but  for  life.  The  Girondists,  knowing 


1792.]  THE  JACOBINS.  177 

Plan*  of  the  Jacobins.  Fearlessness  of  Madaon  Rolacd. 

that  the  fury  of  the  Revolution  would  soon 
sweep  over  every  thing,  unless  they  could  bring 
back  the  people  to  a  sense  of  justice — would 
punish  with  the  scaffold  those  who  had  incited 
the  massacre  of  thousands  of  uncondemned  cit- 
izens. The  Jacobins  would  rid  themselves  of 
their  adversaries  by  overwhelming  them  in  the 
same  carnage  to  which  they  had  consigned  the 
Loyalists.  Madame  Roland  might  have  fled 
from  these  perils,  and  have  retired  with  her 
husband  to  regions  of  tranquillity  and  of  safety 
out  she  urged  M.  Roland  to  remain  at  his  post 
and  resolved  to  remain  herself  and  meet  her 
destiny,  whatever  it  might  be.  Never  did  a 
mortal  face  danger,  with  a  full  appreciation  of 
its  magnitude,  with  more  stoicism  than  was  ex- 
hibited by  this  most  ardent  and  enthusiastic  of 
women. 

18—12 


178  MADAME  ROLAND.  [17U2 

Hie  Jacobin*  resoira  to  bring  the  king  to  trial.  Famine  In  Parli 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
LAST  STRUGGLES  OF  THE  GIRONDISTS. 

f  I1HE  Jacobins  now  resolved  to  bring  the 
-•-  king  to  trial.  By  placards  posted  in  the 
•treets,  by  inflammatory  speeches  in  the  Con- 
vention, in  public  gatherings,  and  in  the  clubs, 
by  false  assertions  and  slanders  of  every  con- 
ceivable nature,  they  had  roused  the  ignorant 
populace  to  the  full  conviction  that  the  king 
was  the  author  of  every  calamity  now  impend- 
ing. The  storm  of  the  Revolution  had  swept 
desolation  through  all  the  walks  of  peaceful  in- 
dustry. Starvation,  gaunt  and  terrible,  began 
to  stare  the  population  of  Paris  directly  in  the 
face.  The  infuriated  mob  hung  the  bakers 
upon  the  lamp-posts  before  their  own  doors  for 
refusing  to  supply  them  with  bread.  The  peas- 
ant dared  not  carry  provisions  into  the  city,  for 
he  was  sure  of  being  robbed  by  the  sovereign 
people,  who  had  attained  the  freedom  of  com- 
mitting all  crimes  with  impunity.  The  multi- 
tude fully  believed  that  there  was  a  conspiracy 
formed  by  the  king  in  his  prison,  and  by  th« 


1792.1  THE  GIRONDISTS.  179 


Suiptcious  against  the  Girondist*.  Baseness  of  the  Jacobin*. 


friends  of  royalty,  to  starve  the  people  into  sub- 
jection. Portentous  murmurs  were  now  also 
borne  on  every  breeze,  uttered  by  a  thousand 
unseen  voices,  that  the  Girondists  were  accom- 
plices in  this  conspiracy ;  that  they  hated  the 
Revolution ;  that  they  wished  to  save  the  life 
of  the  king ;  that  they  would  welcome  the  army 
of  invasion,  as  affording  them  an  opportunity  to 
reinstate  Louis  upon  the  throne.  The  Jaco- 
bins, it  was  declared,  were  the  only  true  friends 
of  the  people.  The  Girondists  were  accused 
of  being  in  league  with  the  aristocrats.  These 
suspicions  rose  and  floated  over  Paris  like  the 
mist  of  the  ocean.  They  were  every  where  en- 
countered, and  yet  presented  no  resistance  to  be 
assailed.  They  were  intimated  in  the  Jacobin 
journals ;  they  were  suggested,  with  daily  in- 
creasing distinctness,  at  the  tribune.  And  in 
those  multitudinous  gatherings,  where  Marat 
stood  in  filth  and  rags  to  harangue  the  misera- 
ble, and  the  vicious,  and  the  starving,  they  were 
proclaimed  loudly,  and  with  execrations.  The 
Jacobins  rejoiced  that  they  had  now,  by  the 
force  of  circumstances,  crowded  their  adversa- 
ries into  a  position  from  which  they  could  not 
easily  extricate  themselves.  Should  the  Gi- 
rondists vote  for  the  death  of  the  king,  they 


180  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1798. 

Peril  of  th«  OtrondUt*.  Anxious  deliberation* 


would  thus  support  the  Jacobins  in  those  san- 
guinary measures,  so  popular  with  the  mob, 
which  had  now  become  the  right  arm  of  Jaco- 
bin power.  The  glory  would  also  all  redound  to 
the  Jacobins,  for  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  con- 
vince the  multitude  that  the  Girondists  merely 
submitted  to  a  measure  which  they  were  un- 
able to  resist.  Should  the  Girondists,  on  the 
other  hand,  true  to  their  instinctive  abhorrence 
of  these  deeds  of  blood,  dare  to  vote  against  the 
death  of  the  king,  they  would  be  ruined  irre- 
trievably. They  would  then  stand  unmasked 
before  the  people  as  traitors  to  the  Republic 
and  the  friends  of  royalty.  Like  noxious  beasts, 
they  would  be  hunted  through  the  streets  and 
massacred  at  their  own  firesides.  The  Girond- 
ists perceived  distinctly  the  vortex  of  destruc- 
tion toward  which  they  were  so  rapidly  circling. 
Many  and  anxious  were  their  deliberations, 
night  after  night,  in  the  library  of  Madame  Ro- 
land. In  the  midst  of  the  fearful  peril,  it  was 
not  easy  to  decide  what  either  duty  or  apparent 
policv  required, 

The  Jacobins  now  made  a  direct  and  infa 
mous  attempt  to  turn  the  rage  of  the  populace 
against  Madame  Roland.  Achille  Viard,  one 
of  those  unprincipled  adventurers  with  which 


1792.]  THE  GIRONDISTS.  181 

VDe  Intrigue  of  the  Jacobin*.  Madame  Roland  accrued. 

the  stormy  times  had  filled  he  metropolis,  was 
employed,  as  a  spy,  to  feign  attachment  to  the 
Girondist  party,  and  to  seek  the  acquaintance, 
and  insinuate  himself  into  the  confidence  of  Ma- 
dame  Roland.  By  perversions  and  exaggera- 
tions of  her  language,  he  was  to  fabricate  an 
accusation  against  her  which  would  bring  her 
head  to  the  scaffold.  Madame  Roland  instant- 
ly penetrated  his  character,  and  he  was  repulsed 
from  her  presence  by  the  most  contemptuous 
neglect.  He,  however,  appeared  before  the 
Assembly  as  her  accuser,  and  charged  her  with 
carrying  on  a  secret  correspondence  with  per- 
sons of  influence  at  home  and  abroad,  to  protect 
the  king.  She  was  summoned  to  present  herself 
before  the  Convention,  to  confront  her  accuser, 
and  defend  herself  from  the  scaffold.  Her  gen- 
tle yet  imperial  spirit  was  undaunted  by  the 
magnitude  of  the  peril.  Her  name  had  often 
been  mentioned  in  the  Assembly  as  the  inspir- 
ing genius  of  the  most  influential  and  eloquent 
party  which  had  risen  up  amid  the  storms  of 
the  Revolution.  Her  talents,  her  accomplish- 
ments, her  fascinating  conversational  eloquence, 
had  spread  her  renown  widely  through  Europe. 
A  large  number  of  the  most  illustrious  men  in 
that  legislative  hall,  both  ardent  young  men 


182  MADAMB  ROLAND.  [1782 

llnduna  Roiand  before  the  Assembly.  Her  dignified  demouxn 

and  those  venerable  with  age,  regarded  her  with 
the  most  profound  admiration — almost  with  re- 
ligious homage.  Others,  conscious  of  her  pow- 
er, and  often  foiled  by  her  sagacity,  hated  hei 
with  implacable  hatred,  and  determined,  either 
by  the  ax  of  the  guillotine  or  by  the  poniard  of 
the  assassin,  to  remove  her  from  their  way. 

The  aspect  of  a  young  and  beautiful  woman, 
combining  in  her  person  and  mind  all  the  at- 
tractions of  nature  and  genius,  with  her  cheek 
glowing  with  heroic  resolution,  and  her  demean- 
or exhibiting  the  most  perfect  feminine  loveli- 
ness and  modesty,  entering  this  vast  assembly 
of  irritated  men  to  speak  in  defense  of  her  life, 
at  once  hushed  the  clamor  of  hoarse  voices,  and 
subdued  the  rage  of  angry  disputants.  Silence 
the  most  respectful  instantly  filled  the  hall. 
Every  eye  was  fixed  upon  her.  The  hearts  of 
her  friends  throbbed  with  sympathy  and  with 
love.  Her  enemies  were  more  than  half  dis- 
armed, and  wished  that  they,  also,  were  honor- 
ed as  her  friends.  She  stood  before  the  bar. 

*'  What  is  your  name  ?"  inquired  the  pres- 
ident. 

She  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then,  fixing 
her  eye  calmly  upon  her  interrogator,  in  those 
olear  and  liquid  tones  which  left  their  vibration 


179    ]  THE  GIRONDISTS.  183 

Madame  Reland's  defenM  of  herself.     She  U  acquitted  by  acclamation. 

upon  the  ear  long  after  her  voice  was  hushed  in 
death,  answered, 

"  Roland !  a  name  of  which  I  am  proud,  for 
Vt  is  that  of  a  good  and  an  honorable  man." 

"  Do  you  know  Achille  Viard  ?"  the  president 
Inquired. 

"  I  have  once,  and  but  once,  seen  him." 
"  What  has  passed  between  you  ?" 
"  Twice  he  has  written  to  me,  soliciting  an 
interview.  Once  I  saw  him.  After  a  short  con- 
versation, I  perceived  that  he  was  a  spy,  and 
dismissed  him  with  the  contempt  he  deserved." 
The  calm  dignity  of  her  replies,  the  ingenu- 
ous frankness  of  her  manners,  and  the  manifest 
malice  and  falsehood  of  Viard's  accusation, 
made  even  her  enemies  ashamed  of  their  un- 
ohivalrous  prosecution.  Briefly,  in  tremulous 
tones  of  voice,  but  with  a  spirit  of  firmness  which 
no  terrors  could  daunt,  she  entered  upon  her 
defense.  It  was  the  first  time  that  a  female 
voice  had  been  heard  in  the  midst  of  the  clamor 
of  these  enraged  combatants.  The  Assembly, 
unused  to  such  a  scene,  were  fascinated  by  hei 
attractive  eloquence.  Viard,  convicted  of  mean 
noss,  and  treachery,  and  falsehood,  dared  not 
open  his  lips.  Madame  Roland  was  acquitted 
by  acclamation.  Upon  the  spot  the  president 


184  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1792 

Madame  Roland's  triumph.  Chagrin  of  her  enemiaa 

proposed  that  the  marked  respect  of  the  Con- 
vention be  conferred  upon  Madame  Roland. 
With  enthusiasm  the  resolution  was  carried. 
As  she  retired  from  the  hall,  her  bosom  glow- 
ing  with  the  excitement  of  the  perfect  triumph 
she  had  won,  her  ear  was  greeted  with  the  en- 
thusiastic applause  of  the  whole  assembly.  The 
eyes  of  all  France  had  been  attracted  to  her  aa 
she  thus  defended  herself  and  her  friends,  and 
confounded  her  enemies.  Marat  gnashed  his 
teeth  with  rage.  Danton  was  gloomy  and  si- 
lent. Robespierre,  vanquished  by  charms  which 
had  so  often  before  enthralled  him,  expressed 
nis  contempt  for  the  conspiracy,  and,  for  the 
last  time,  smiled  upon  his  early  friend,  whom 
he  soon,  with  the  most  stoical  indifference, 
dragged  to  the  scaffold. 

The  evening  after  the  overthrow  of  the  mon- 
archy and  the  establishment  of  the  Republic, 
when  there  was  still  some  faint  hope  that  there 
might  yet  be  fount  intelligence  and  virtue  in 
the  people  to  sustain  the  Constitution,  the  Gi- 
rondists met  at  Madame  Roland's,  and  cele- 
brated, with  trembling  exultation,  the  birth  of 
popular  liberty.  The  Constitution  of  the  Unit- 
ed States  was  the  beau  ideal  of  the  Girr  ndisU, 
and,  vainly  dreaming  that  the  institutions  which 


1792.]  THE  GIRONDISTS.  185 

Festival  of  the  Girondists  Toast  of  Yergnirad. 

Washington  and  his  compatriots  had  establish- 
ed in  Christian  America  were  now  firmly  plant- 
ed in  infidel  France,  they  endeavored  to  cast  the 
veil  of  oblivion  over. the  past,  and  to  spread  over 
the  future  the  illusions  of  hope.  The  men  here 
assembled  were  the  most  illustrious  of  the  na- 
tion. Noble  sentiments  passed  from  mind  to 
mind.  Madame  Roland,  pale  with  emotion, 
conscious  of  the  perils  which  were  so  porten- 
tously rising  around  them,  shone  with  a  preter- 
natural brilliance  in  the  solemn  rejoicing  of  that 
evening.  The  aged  Roland  gazed  with  tears 
of  fond  affection  and  of  gratified  pride  upon  his 
lovely  wife,  as  if  in  spirit  asking  her  if  all  the 
loftiest  aspirations  of  their  souls  were  not  now 
answered.  The  victorious  Republicans  hardly 
knew  whether  to  sing  triumphant  songs  or  fu- 
neral dirges.  Vergniaud,  the  renowned  orator 
of  the  party,  was  prominent  above  them  all. 
With  a  pale  cheek,  and  a  serene  and  pensive 
Bmile,  he  sat  in  silence,  his  mind  evidently  wan- 
dering among  the  rising  apparitions  of  the  fu- 
ture. At  the  close  of  the  supper  he  filled  his 
glass,  and  rising,  proposed  to  drink  to  the  eter- 
nity of  the  Republic.  Madame  Roland,  whose 
mind  wap  ever  filled  with  classic  recollections, 
•oattered  from  a  bouquet  which  she  held  in  bar 


186  MADAMK   ROLAND.  [179k 

CUwteal  aflMion.  CUmora  for  tko  kim('i  death 

hand,  some  rose  leaves  on  the  wine  in  his  glass. 
Vergniaud  drank  the  wine,  and  then  said,  hi  a 
low  voice,  "  We  should  quaff  cypreos  leaves, 
not  rose  leaves,  in  our  wine  to-night.  In  drink 
ing  to  a  republic,  stained,  at  its  birth,  with  the 
blood  of  massacre,  who  knows  but  that  we  drink 
to  our  own  death.  But  no  matter.  Were  this 
wine  my  own  blood,  I  would  drain  it  to  liberty 
and  equality."  All  the  guests,  with  enthusi- 
asm, responded,  "  Vive  la  Republique  /"  After 
dinner,  Roland  read  to  the  company  a  paper 
drawn  up  by  himself  and  wife  in  reference  to 
the  state  of  the  Republic,  which  views  were  to 
be  presented  the  next  day  to  the  Convention. 

The  royal  family  were  still  in  the  dungeons  of 
the  Temple,  lingering  through  the  dreary  hours 
of  the  most  desolate  imprisonment.  Phrensied 
mobs,  rioting  through  the  streets  of  Paris,  and 
overawing  all  law,  demanded,  with  loudest  ex- 
ecrations, the  death  of  the  king.  A  man  hav- 
ing ventured  to  say  that  he  thought  that  the 
Republic  might  be  established  without  shedding 
the  blood  of  Louis,  was  immediately  stabbed  to 
the  heart,  and  his  mutilated  remains  were  drag- 
ged through  the  streets  of  Paris  hi  fiendish  rev- 
elry.  A  poor  vender  of  pamphlets  and  newspa- 
pers, coming  out  of  a  reading-room,  was  accused 


1793.J  THE  GIRONDISTS.  187 

Tbe  king  brought  before  the  Con rentlon.  Dlamal  day 

of  selling  books  favorable  to  royalty.  The  sus- 
picion was  crime,  and  he  fell,  pierced  by  thirty 
daggers.  Such  warnings  as  these  were  signif- 
icant and  impressive,  and  few  dared  utter  a 
word  in  favor  of  the  king. 

It  was  the  month  of  January,  1793,  when 
the  imprisoned  monarch  was  brought  into  the 
hall  of  the  Convention  for  his  trial.  It  was  a 
gloomy  day  for  France,  and  all  external  na- 
ture seemed  shrouded  in  darkness  and  sorrow. 
Clouds  of  mist  were  sweeping  through  the  chill 
air,  and  a  few  feeble  lamps  glimmered  along  the 
narrow  avenues  and  gloomy  passages,  which 
were  darkened  by  the  approach  of  a  winter's 
night.  Armed  soldiers  surrounded  the  build- 
ing. Heavy  pieces  of  artillery  faced  every 
approach.  Cannoneers,  with  lighted  matches, 
stood  at  their  side,  ready  to  scatter  a  storm  of 
grape-shot  upon  every  foe.  A  mob  of  countless 
thousands  were  surging  to  and  fro  through  all 
the  neighboring  streets.  The  deep,  dull  mur- 
mnrings  of  the  multitude  swelled  in  unison  with 
the  sighings  of  the  storm  rising  upon  the  som- 
ber night.  It  was  with  no  little  difficulty  that 
the  deputies  could  force  their  way  through  the 
ocean  of  human  beings  surrounding  the  Assem- 
bly. The  coarse  garb,  the  angry  features,  th«» 


188  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1793. 

Menace*  of  the  mob.  Dutoa,  Marat,  and  RobMpterr* 

harsh  voices,  the  fierce  and  significant  gestures, 
proclaimed  too  clearly  that  the  mob  had  determ- 
ined to  have  the  life  of  the  king,  and  that,  mi- 
less  the  deputies  should  vote  his  death,  both 
king  and  deputies  should  perish  together.  As 
each  deputy  threaded  his  way  through  the 
thronging  masses,  he  heard,  in  threatening 
tones,  muttered  into  his  ear  deep  and  emphat- 
ic, "  His  death  or  thine  !" 

Persons  who  were  familiar  with  the  faces  of 
all  the  members  were  stationed  at  particular 
points,  and  called  out  aloud  to  the  multitude  the 
names  of  the  deputies  as  they  elbowed  their  way 
through  the  surging  multitudes.  At  the  names 
of  Danton,  Marat,  Robespierre,  the  ranks  opened 
to  make  way  for  these  idols  of  the  populace,  and 
shouts  of  the  most  enthusiastic  greeting  fell 
upon  their  ears.  When  the  names  of  Verg- 
niaud,  Brissot,  and  others  of  the  leading  Gi- 
rondists were  mentioned,  clinched  fists,  brand- 
ished daggers,  and  angry  menaces  declared  that 
those  who  refused  to  obey  the  wishes  of  the  peo- 
ple should  encounter  dire  revenge.  The  very 
sentinels  placed  to  guard  the  deputies  encour- 
aged the  mob  to  insult  and  violence.  The  lob- 
bies were  filled  with  the  most  sanguinary  ruf- 
fian* of  Paris.  The  interior  of  the  hall  wat 


1793.]  THE  GIRONDISTS  189 

Trial  of  tha  king.  Proportion  of  Bobetptom 

dimly  lighted.  A  chandelier,  suspended  from 
the  center  of  the  ceiling,  illuminated  certain 
portions  of  the  room,  while  the  more  distant 
parts  remained  in  deep  obscurity.  That  all 
might  act  under  the  full  sense  of  their  respons- 
ibility to  the  mob,  Robespierre  had  proposed 
and  carried  the  vote  that  the  silent  form  of  bal- 
lot should  be  rejected,  and  that  each  deputy,  in 
his  turn,  should  ascend  the  tribune,  and,  with 
a  distinct  voice,  announce  his  sentence.  For 
some  time  after  the  voting  commenced  it  was 
quite  uncertain  how  the  decision  would  turn. 
In  the  alternate  record  of  the  vote,  death  and 
exile  appeared  to  be  equally  balanced.  All  now 
depended  upon  the  course  which  the  Girondists 
should  pursue.  If  they  should  vote  for  death, 
the  doom  of  the  king  was  sealed.  Vergniaud 
was  the  first  of  that  party  to  be  called  to  record 
his  sentence.  It  was  well  known  that  he  look- 
ed with  repugnance  and  horror  upon  the  san- 
guinary scenes  with  which  the  Revolution  had 
been  deformed,  and  that  he  had  often  avowed 
his  sympathy  for  the  hard  fate  of  a  prince  whose 
greatest  crime  was  weakness.  His  vote  would 
unquestionably  be  the  index  of  that  of  the  whole 
party,  and  thus  the  life  or  death  of  the  king  ap- 
peared to  be  suspended  from  his  lips.  It  \rae 


L90  MADAMK  ROLAND.  [1793 

Vote  of  VergnUmd.  Vote  of  the  GirondUu 

known  that  the  very  evening  before,  while  sup- 
ping  with  a  lady  who  expressed  much  commis- 
eration for  the  captives  in  the  Temple,  ho  had 
declared  that  he  would  save  the  life  of  the  king. 
The  courage  of  Vergniaud  was  above  suspicion, 
and  his  integrity  above  reproach.  Difficult  aa 
it  was  to  judge  impartially,  with  the  cannon  and 
the  pikes  of  the  mob  leveled  at  his  breast,  it  was 
not  doubted  that  he  would  vote  conscientiously. 

As  the  name  of  Vergniaud  was  called,  all  con- 
versation instantly  ceased.  Perfect  silence  per- 
vaded the  hall,  and  every  eye  was  riveted  upon 
him.  Slowly  he  ascended  the  steps  of  the  trib- 
une. His  brow  was  calm,  but  his  mouth  close- 
ly compressed,  as  if  to  sustain  some  firm  resolve. 
He  paused  for  a  moment,  and  the  Assembly  was 
breathless  with  suspense.  He  contracted  his 
eyebrows,  as  if  again  reflecting  upon  his  deci- 
sion, and  then,  in  a  low,  solemn,  firm  voice,  ut- 
tered the  word  "  Death." 

The  most  profound  silence  reigned  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  then  again  the  low  murmur  of  sup- 
pressed conversation  filled  the  hall.  Vergniaud 
descended  from  the  tribune  and  disappeared  in 
the  crowd.  All  hope  for  the  king  was  now  gone. 
The  rest  of  the  Girondists  also  voted  for  death, 
and  Louis  was  condemned  to  the  scaffold. 


1793.]  THE  GIRONDISTS.  19] 

Indignation  at  the  king's  death.  The  Revolutionary  Tribon&l 

This  united  vote  upon  the  death  of  the  king 
for  a  short  time  mingled  together  again  the  Gi- 
rondists and  the  Jacobins.  But  the  dominant 
party,  elated  by  the  victory  which  they  had 
gained  over  their  adversaries,  were  encouraged 
to  fresh  extortions.  Perils  increased.  Europe 
was  rising  in  arms  against  the  blood-stained 
Republic.  The  execution  of  the  king  aroused 
emotions  of  .unconquerable  detestation  in  the 
bosoms  of  thousands  who  had  previously  looked 
upon  the  Revolution  with  favor.  Those  who 
had  any  opulence  to  forfeit,  or  any  position  in 
society  to  maintain,  were  ready  to  welcome  as 
deliverers  the  allied  army  of  invasion.  It  was 
then,  to  meet  this  emergency,  that  that  terrible 
Revolutionary  Tribunal  was  organized,  which 
raised  the  ax  of  the  guillotine  as  the  one  all-po- 
tent instrument  of  government,  and  which  shed 
such  oceans  of  innocent  blood.  "  Two  hundred 
and  sixty  thousand  heads,"  said  Marat,  "  must 
fall  before  France  will  be  safe  from  internal 
foes."  Danton,  Marat,  and  Robespierre  were 
now  in  the  ascendency,  riding  with  resistless 
power  upon  the  billows  of  mob  violence.  When- 
ever they  wished  to  carry  any  measure,  they 
sent  forth  their  agents  to  the  dens  and  lurking- 
places  of  degradation  and  crime,  and  surround' 


1U2  MADAMB  ROLAND.  [1793 

Unlimited  powers  of  the  Rarolutionary  Tribunal      Atrooion*  emeltW* 

ed  and  filled  the  hall  of  the  Assembly  with  blood- 
thirsty  assassins.  "  Those  who  call  themselves 
respectable"  said  Marat,  " wish  to  give  laws 
to  those  whom  they  call  the  rabble.  We  will 
teach  them  that  the  time  is  come  in  which  the 
rabble  is  to  reign." 

This  Revolutionary  Tribunal,  consisting  of 
five  judges,  a  jury,  and  a  public  accuser,  all  ap- 
pointed by  the  Convention,  was  proposed  and 
decreed  on  the  same  evening.  It  possessed  un- 
limited powers  to  confiscate  property  and  take 
life.  The  Girondists  dared  not  vote  against 
this  tribunal.  The  public  voice  would  pro- 
nounce them  the  worst  of  traitors.  France  was 
now  a  charnel-house.  Blood  flowed  in  streams 
which  were  never  dry.  Innocence  had  no  pro- 
tection. Virtue  was  suspicion,  suspicion  a 
crime,  the  guillotine  the  penalty,  and  the  con- 
fiscated estate  the  bribe  to  accusation.  Thus 
there  was  erected,  in  the  name  of  liberty  and 
popular  rights,  over  the  rains  of  the  French 
monarchy,  a  system  of  despotism  the  most  atro- 
cious and  merciless  under  which  humanity  haa 
ever  groaned. 

Again  and  again  had  the  Jacobins  called  the 
mob  into  the  Assembly,  and  compelled  the  mem- 
bore  to  vote  with  the  poniards  of  assassint  ftl 


i?y3.J  THE  GIRONDISTS.  193 

Embarrassments  of  M.  Holand.  He  sends  in  his  resignation, 

their  breasts.  Madame  Roland  now  despaired 
of  liberty.  Calumny,  instead  of  gratitude,  was 
unsparingly  heaped  upon  herself  and  her  hus- 
band. This  requital,  so  unexpected,  was  more 
dreadful  to  her  than  the  scaffold.  All  the  prom- 
ised fruits  of  the  Revolution  had  disappeared, 
and  desolation  and  crime  alone  were  realized. 
The  Girondists  still  met  hi  Madame  Roland's 
library  to  deliberate  concerning  measures  for 
averting  the  impending  ruin.  All  was  una- 
vailing. 

The  most  distressing  embarrassments  now 
surrounded  M.  Roland.  He  could  not  abandon 
power  without  abandoning  himself  and  his  sup- 
porters in  the  Assembly  to  the  guillotine ;  and 
while  continuing  hi  power,  he  was  compelled  to 
witness  deeds  of  atrocity  from  which  not  only 
his  soul  revolted,  but  to  which  it  was  necessary 
for  him  apparently  to  give  his  sanction.  His 
cheek  grew  pale  and  wan  with  care.  He  could 
neither  eat  nor  sleep.  The  Republic  had  proved 
an  utter  failure,  and  France  was  but  a  tem« 
pest-tossed  ocean  of  anarchy. 

Thus  situated,  M.  Roland,  with  the  most 
melancholy  forebodings,  sent  in  his  final  resig- 
nation. He  retired  to  humble  'odgings  in  one 
eftho  obscure  streets  of  Paris  Here,  anxious- 
18—13 


194  MADAME  ROLANO.  [1793 

Attempts  to  assassinate  the  Roland*.  Entreaties  of  friend* 

ly  watohing  the  progress  of  events,  he  began  to 
make  preparations  to  leave  the  mob-enthralled 
metopolis,  and  seek  a  retreat,  in  the  calm  se- 
clusion of  La  Platiere,  from  these  storms  which 
no  human  power  could  allay.  Still,  the  influ 
ence  of  Roland  and  his  wife  was  feared  by  those 
who  were  directing  the  terrible  enginery  of  law- 
less violence.  It  was  well  known  by  them  both 
that  assassins  had  been  employed  to  silence 
them  with  the  poniard.  Madame  Roland  seem- 
ed, however,  perfectly  insensible  to  personal 
fear.  She  thought  only  of  her  husband  and  v  *r 
child.  Desperate  men  were  seen  lurking  about 
the  house,  and  their  friends  urged  them  to  re- 
move as  speedily  as  possible  from  the  perils  by 
which  they  were  surrounded.  Neither  the  sa- 
credness  of  law  nor  the  weapons  of  their  friends 
could  longer  afford  them  any  protection.  The 
danger  became  so  imminent  that  the  friends  of 
Madame  Roland  brought  her  the  dress  of  a 
peasant  girl,  and  entreated  her  to  put  it  on,  as 
a  disguise,  and  escape  by  night,  that  her  hus- 
band might  follow  after  her,  unencumbered  by 
ius  family ;  but  she  proudly  repelled  that  which 
she  deemed  a  cowardly  artifice.  She  threw  the 
dress  aside,  exclaiming,  "  I  am  ashamed  to  re- 
sort to  any  such  expedient.  I  will  neither  dia- 


1793.]  THE  GIRONDISTS.  195 

FtrmneM  of  Madame  Roland.        Roland'*  influence  In  the  department*. 

guise  myself,  nor  make  any  attempt  at  secret 
escape.  My  enemies  may  find  me  always  in 
my  place.  If  I  am  assassinated,  it  shall  be  in 
my  own  home.  I  owe  my  country  an  example 
of  firmness,  and  I  will  give  it." 

She,  however,  was  so  fully  aware  of  her  peril, 
and  each  night  was  burdened  with  such  atroci- 
ties, that  she  placed  loaded  pistols  under  her 
pillow,  to  defend  herself  from  those  outrages, 
worse  than  death,  of  which  the  Revolution  af- 
forded so  many  examples.  While  the  influence 
of  the  Girondists  was  entirely  overborne  by  the 
clamors  of  the  mob  in  Paris,  in  the  more  virtu- 
ous rural  districts,  far  removed  from  the  corrup- 
tion of  the  capital,  their  influence  was  on  the  in- 
crease. The  name  of  M.  Roland,  uttered  with 
execrations  in  the  metropolis  by  the  vagabonds 
swarming  from  all  parts  of  Europe,  was  spoken 
in  tones  of  veneration  in  the  departments,  where 
husbandmen  tilled  the  soil,  and  loved  the  reign 
of  law  and  peace.  Hence  the  Jacobins  had  se- 
rious cause  to  fear  a  reaction,  and  determined 
to  silence  their  voices  by  the  slide  of  the  guil- 
lotine. The  most  desperate  measures  were  now 
adopted  for  the  destruction  of  the  Girondists. 
One  conspiracy  was  formed  to  collect  the  moo, 
ever  ready  to  obey  a  signal  from  Marat,  around 


196  MADAME  ROLAND  [1793. 

Plot*  against  the  GlrondUtt.        Insurrections  in  favor  of  the  monarchy 

the  Assembly,  to  incite  them  to  burst  in  at  the 
doors  and  the  windows,  and  fill  the  hall  with 
confusion,  while  picked  men  were  to  poniard 
the  Girondists  in  their  seats.  The  conspiracy 
was  detected  and  exposed  but  a  few  hours  be- 
fore its  appointed  execution.  The  Jacobin  lead- 
ers, protected  by  their  savage  allies,  were  rais- 
ed above  the  power  of  law,  and  set  all  punish- 
ment at  defiance. 

A  night  was  again  designated,  in  which  bands 
of  armed  men  were  to  surround  the  dwelling 
of  each  Girondist,  and  assassinate  these  foes  of 
Jacobin  domination  in  their  beds.  This  plot 
also  was  revealed  to  the  Girondists  but  a  few 
hours  before  its  destined  catastrophe,  and  it  was 
with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  the  doomed  vic- 
tims obtained  extrication  from  the  toils  which 
had  been  wound  around  them.  Disastrous 
news  was  now  daily  arriving  from  the  frontiers. 
The  most  alarming  tidings  came  of  insurrec- 
tions in  La  Vendee,  and  other  important  por- 
tions of  France,  in  favor  of  the  restoration  of 
the  monarchy.  These  gathering  perils  threw 
terror  into  the  hearts  of  the  Jacobins,  and  rous- 
ed them  to  deeds  of  desperation.  Though  Ma- 
dame Roland  was  now  in  comparative  obsour- 
fty,  night  after  night  the  most  illustrious  men 


1793.J  THE  GIRONDISTS.  197 

Meeting!  at  Madame  Roland's.  Jacobin  insurrection. 

of  France,  battling  for  liberty  and  for  life  in 
the  Convention,  ascended  the  dark  staircase  to 
her  secluded  room,  hidden  in  the  depth  of  a 
oourt  o*  the  Rue  de  la  Harpe,  and  there  talked 
over  tne  scenes  of  the  day,  and  deliberated  re- 
specting the  morrow. 

The  Jacobins  now  planned  one  of  those  hor- 
rible insurrections  which  sent  a  thrill  of  terror 
into  every  bosom  in  Paris.  Assembling  the 
multitudinous  throng  of  demoniac  men  and 
women  which  the  troubled  times  had  collected 
from  every  portion  of  Christendom,  they  gath- 
ered them  around  the  hall  of  the  Assembly  to 
enforce  their  demands.  It  was  three  o'clock  in 
the  morning  of  the  31st  of  May,  1793,  when 
the  dismal  sounds  of  the  alarm  bells,  spreading 
from  belfry  to  belfry,  and  the  deep  booming  of 
the  insurrection  gun,  reverberating  through  the 
streets,  aroused  the  citizens  from  their  slum 
bers,  producing  universal  excitement  and  con- 
sternation. A  cold  and  freezing  wind  swept 
clouds  of  mist  through  the  gloomy  air,  and  the 
moaning  storm  seemed  the  appropriate  requiem 
of  a  sorrow-stricken  world.  The  Hotel  de  Ville 
was  the  appointed  place  of  rendezvous  for  the 
swarming  multitudes.  The  affrighted  citizens, 
knowing  but  too  well  to  what  scenes  of  violeno* 


198  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1793 

rorfeentonf  mattering*.  Precaution*  of  the  Olrondictfc 

and  blood  these  demonstrations  were  the  pre- 
cursors, threw  up  their  windows,  and  looked  out 
with  fainting  hearts  upon  the  dusky  forms 
crowding  by  like  apparitions  of  darkness.  The 
rumbling  of  the  wheels  of  heavy  artillery,  the 
flash  of  powder,  with  the  frequent  report  of  fire- 
arms, and  the  uproar  and  the  clamor  of  count- 
less voices,  were  fearful  omens  of  a  day  to  dawn 
in  blacker  darkness  than  the  night.  The  Gi- 
rondists had  recently  been  called  in  the  journals 
and  inflammatory  speeches  of  their  adversaries 
the  Rolandists.  The  name  was  given  them  in 
recognition  of  the  prominent  position  of  Ma- 
dame Roland  in  the  party,  and  with  the  e» 
deavor  to  cast  reproach  upon  her  and  her  hus- 
band. Through  all  the  portentous  mutterings 
of  this  rising  storm  could  be  heard  deep  and 
significant  execrations  and  menaces,  coupled 
with  the  names  of  leading  members  of  the  Gi- 
rondist party.  "Down  with  the  aristocrats, 
the  traitors,  the  Rolandists !"  shouted  inces- 
santly hoarse  voices  and  shrill  voices,  of  drunk- 
en  men,  of  reckless  boys,  of  fiendish  women 

The  Girondists,  apprehensive  of  some  move- 
ment of  this  kind,  had  generally  taken  the  pre- 
caution not  to  sleep  that  night  in  their  own 
dwellings.  The  intrepid  Vergniaud  alone  re- 


1793.]  THE  GIRONDISTS.  JLiJ9 

Intrepidity  of  Vergnlaud.  Power  of  prajrer 

fused  to  adopt  any  measure  of  safety.  "  What 
signifies  life  to  me  now  ?"  said  he ;  "  my  blood 
may  be  more  eloquent  than  my  words  in  awak- 
ening and  saving  my  country.  I  am  ready  for 
the  sacrifice."  One  of  the  Girondists,  M.  Ra- 
bout,  a  man  of  deep,  reflective  piety,  hearing 
these  noises,  rose  from  his  bed,  listened  a  mo- 
ment at  his  window  to  the  tumult  swelling  up 
from  every  street  of  the  vast  metropolis,  and 
calmly  exclaiming,  "  Ilia  suprema  dies,"  it  is 
our  last  day,  prostrated  himself  at  the  foot  of 
his  bed,  and  invoked  aloud  the  Divine  protec- 
tion upon  his  companions,  his  country,  and 
himself.  Many  of  his  friends  were  with  him, 
friends  who  knew  not  the  power  of  prayer.  But 
there  are  hours  in  which  every  soul  instinctive- 
ly craves  the  mercy  of  its  Creator.  They  all 
oowed  reverently,  and  were  profoundly  affected 
by  the  supplications  of  their  Christian  friend. 
Fortified  and  tranquilized  by  the  potency  of 
prayer,  and  determining  to  die,  if  die  they  must, 
at  the  post  of  duty,  at  six  o'clock  they  descend- 
ed into  the  street,  with  pistols  and  daggers  con- 
cealed beneath  their  clothes.  They  succeeded, 
unrecognized,  in  reaching  the  Convention  in 
•afety. 

One  or  two  of  the  Jacobin  party  were  assem- 


200  MADAME   ROLAND.  [17931 

*  Horrible  hope."  The  power  of  the  Girondists  gone 

bled  there  at  that  early  hour,  and  Danton,  pale 
with  the  excitement  of  a  sleepless  night,  walk- 
ing to  and  fro  in  nervous  agitation,  greeted  his 
old  friends  with  a  wan  and  melancholy  smile. 
"  Do  you  see,"  said  Louvet  to  Gaudet,  "  what 
horrible  hope  shines  upon  that  hideous  face?" 
The  members  rapidly  collected.  The  hall  wai 
soon  filled.  The  Girondists  were  now  helpless, 
their  sinews  of  power  were  cut,  and  the  strug- 
gle was  virtually  over.  All  that  remained  for 
them  was  to  meet  their  fate  heroically  and  with 
an  unvanquished  spirit. 


1793.]  ARREST  OF  MADAME  ROLAND.  20) 

Tin  Oonrention,  the  mob,  the  Jacobins.       Robespierre,  Danton,  Marat 


CHAPTER  IX. 
ARREST  OF  MADAME  ROLAND. 

FRANCE  was  now  governed  by  the  Con- 
vention. The  Convention  was  governed  by 
the  mob  of  Paris.  The  Jacobins  were  the  head 
of  this  mob.  They  roused  its  rage,  and  guided 
its  fury,  when  and  where  they  listed.  The 
friendship  of  the  mob  was  secured  and  retained 
by  ever  pandering  to  their  passions.  The  Jac- 
obins claimed  to  be  exclusively  the  friends  of 
the  people,  and  advocated  all  those  measures 
which  tended  to  crush  the  elevated  and  flatter 
the  degraded.  Robespierre,  Danton,  Marat, 
were  now  the  idols  of  the  populace. 

On  the  morning  of  the  30th  of  May,  1793, 
the  streets  of  Paris  were  darkened  with  a  dis- 
mal storm  of  low,  scudding  clouds,  and  chilling 
winds,  and  sleet  and  rain.  Pools  of  water  stood 
in  the  miry  streets,  and  every  aspect  of  nature 
was  cheerless  and  desolate.  But  there  was  an- 
other storm  raging  in  those  streets,  more  terri- 
ble than  any  elemental  warfare.  In  locust  le- 
gions, the  deformed,  the  haggard,  the  brutalized 


202  MADAME  ROLAND.  [179 

Aspect  of  the  mob.  The  Jacoblni'  i  word  of  justice 

in  form,  in  features,  in  mind,  in  heart— demo- 
niao  men,  satanio  women,  boys  burly,  sensual, 
blood-thirsty,  like  imps  of  darkness  rioted  along 
toward  the  Convention,  an  interminable  multi- 
tude whom  no  one  could  count.  Their  hideous 
bowlings  thrilled  upon  the  ear,  and  sent  panio 
to  the  heart.  There  was  no  power  to  resist 
them.  There  was  no  protection  from  their  vio- 
lence. And  thousands  wished  that  they  might 
call  up  even  the  most  despotic  king  who  ever 
sat  upon  the  throne  of  France,  from  his  grave, 
to  drive  back  that  most  terrible  of  all  earthly 
despotisms,  the  despotism  of  a  mob.  This  was 
the  power  with  which  the  Jacobins  backed  their 
arguments.  This  was  the  gory  blade  which 
they  waved  before  their  adversaries,  and  called 
the  sword  of  justice. 

The  Assembly  consisted  of  about  eight  hund- 
red members.  There  were  twenty-two  illus- 
trious men  who  were  considered  the  leaders  of 
the  Girondist  party.  The  Jacobins  had  resolv- 
ed that  they  should  be  accused  of  treason,  ar- 
rested, and  condemned.  The  Convention  had 
refused  to  submit  to  the  arbitrary  and  bloody 
demand.  The  mob  were  now  assembled  to  co- 
erce submission.  The  melancholy  tocsin,  and 
the  thunders  of  the  alarm  gun,  resounded 


1793.]  ARREST  OF  MADAME  ROLAND.  208 

The  CoBTention  invaded.  Triumph  of  the  mob 

through  the  air,  as  the  countless  throng  came 
pouring  along  like  ocean  billows,  with  a  resist- 
lessness  which  no  power  could  stay.  They  sur- 
rounded the  Assembly  on  every  side,  forced 
their  way  into  the  hall,  filled  every  vacant 
space,  clambered  upon  the  benches,  crowded  the 
speaker  hi  his  chair,  brandished  their  daggers, 
and  mingled  their  oaths  and  imprecations  with 
the  fierce  debate  Even  the  Jacobins  were  ter- 
rified by  the  frightful  spirits  whom  they  had 
evoked.  "  Down  with  the  Girondists !"  "  Death 
to  the  traitors!"  the  assassins  shouted.  The 
clamor  of  the  mob  silenced  the  Girondists,  and 
they  hardly  made  an  attempt  to  speak  in  their 
defense.  They  sat  upon  their  benches,  pale 
with  the  emotions  which  the  fearful  scenes  ex- 
cited, yet  firm  and  unwavering.  As  Couthon 
a  Jacobin  orator,  was  uttering  deep  denuncia- 
tions, he  became  breathless  with  the  vehemence 
of  his  passionate  speech.  He  turned  to  a  wait- 
er  for  a  glass  of  water.  "  Take  to  Couthon  a 
glass  of  blood,"  said  Vergniaud ;  "  he  is  thirst* 
ing  for  it." 

The  decree  of  accusation  was  proposed,  and 
carried,  without  debate,  beneath  the  poniards 
of  uncounted  thousands  of  assassins.  The  mob 
was  triumphant.  By  acclamation  it  was  then 


204  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1793 

Fraternizing  with  the  mob.  Parti  flhuninated 

Toted  that  all  Paris  should  be  joyfully  illuminat- 
ed, hi  celebration  of  the  triumph  of  the  people 
over  those  who  would  arrest  the  onward  career 
of  the  Revolution ;  and  every  citizen  of  Paris 
well  knew  the  doom  which  awaited  him  if  brill- 
iant lights  were  not  burning  at  his  windows. 
It  was  then  voted,  and  with  enthusiasm,  that 
the  Convention  should  go  out  and  fraternize 
with  the  multitude.  Who  would  have  the  te- 
merity, in  such  an  hour,  to  oppose  the  affection- 
ate demonstration?  The  degraded  Assembly 
obeyed  the  mandate  of  the  mob,  and  marched 
into  the  streets,  where  they  were  hugged  in  the 
unclean  arms  and  pressed  to  the  foul  bosoms  of 
beggary,  and  infamy,  and  pollution.  Louis  was 
avenged.  The  hours  of  the  day  had  now  pass- 
ed ;  night  had  come ;  but  it  was  noonday  light 
in  the  brilliantly-illuminated  streets  of  the  me- 
tropolis. The  Convention,  surrounded  by  torch- 
bearers,  and  an  innumerable  concourse  of  drunk- 
en men  and  women,  rioting  in  hideous  orgies, 
traversed,  in  compulsory  procession,  the  princi- 
pal streets  of  ttye  city.  The  Girondists  were 
led  as  captives  to  grace  the  triumph.  "  Which 
do  you  prefer,"  said  a  Jacobin  to  Vergniaud, 
"  this  ovation  or  the  scaffold  ?"  "  It  is  all  the 
•ame  to  me,"  replied  Vergniaud,  with  stoical  in- 


1793.]  ARREST  OF  MADAME  ROLAND.  205 

Arrest  of  the  Girondists.  8«upea«j  of  the  Roland*. 

difference.  "  There  is  no  choice  between  this 
walk  and  the  guillotine.  It  conducts  us  to  it." 
The  twenty-two  Girondists  were  arrested  and 
committed  to  prison. 

During  this  dreadful  day,  while  these  scenes 
were  pasting  in  the  Assembly,  Madame  Roland 
and  her  husband  were  in  their  solitary  room,  op- 
pressed with  the  most  painful  suspense.  The 
cry  and  the  uproar  of  the  insurgent  city,  the 
tolling  of  bells  and  thundering  of  cannon,  were 
borne  upon  the  wailings  of  the  gloomy  storm, 
and  sent  consternation  even  to  the  stoutest 
hearts.  There  was  now  no  room  for  escape,  for 
the  barriers  were  closed  and  carefully  watched. 
Madame  Roland  knew  perfectly  well  that  if  her 
friends  fell  she  must  fall  with  them.  She  had 
shared  their  principles ;  she  had  guided  their 
measures,  and  she  wished  to  participate  in  their 
doom.  It  was  this  honorable  feeling  which  led 
her  to  refuse  to  provide  for  her  own  safety,  and 
which  induced  her  to  abide,  in  the  midst  of  ever 
increasing  danger,  with  her  associates.  No  per- 
son obnoxious  to  suspicion  could  enter  the  street 
without  fearful  peril,  though,  through  the  lin- 
gering hours  of  the  day,  friends  brought  them 
tidings  of  the  current  of  events.  Nothing  re- 
mained to  be  done  but  to  await,  as  patiently 


MADAMB  ROLAND.  [1793 

Arrwt  of  M.  Roland.  Prompt  action  of  Madame  Roland 

as  possible,  the  blow  that  was  inevitably  to 
fall 

The  twilight  was  darkening  into  night,  when 
six  armed  men  ascended  the  stairs  and  burst 
into  Roland's  apartment.  The  philosopher  look* 
ed  calmly  upon  them  as,  in  the  name  of  the  Con- 
vention, they  informed  him  of  his  arrest.  "I 
do  not  recognize  the  authority  of  your  warrant," 
said  M.  Roland,  "  and  shall  not  voluntarily  fol- 
low you.  I  can  only  oppose  the  resistance  of 
my  gray  hairs,  but  I  will  protest  against  it  with 
my  last  breath." 

The  leader  of  the  party  replied,  "  I  have  no 
orders  to  use  violence.  I  will  go  and  report 
your  answer  to  the  council,  leaving,  in  the  mean 
time,  a  guard  to  secure  your  person." 

This  was  an  hour  to  rouse  all  the  energy  and 
heroic  resolution  of  Madame  Roland.  She  im- 
mediately sat  down,  and,  with  that  rapidity  of 
action  which  her  highly -disciplined  mind  had 
attained,  wrote,  in  a  few  moments,  a  letter  to 
the  Convention.  Leaving  a  friend  who  was  in 
the  house  with  hpr  husband,  she  ordered  a  hack- 
ney coach,  and  drove  as  fast  as  possible  to  the 
Tuileries,  where  the  Assembly  was  in  session. 
The  garden  of  the  Tuileriea  was  filled  with  the 
tumultuary  concourse.  She  forced  her  way 


1793.]  ARREST  OF  MADAME  ROLAND.  207 

Madame  Roland  In  the  petitioners'  halL  Uproar  In  the  AMembly 

through  the  crowd  till  she  arrived  at  the  doori 
of  the  outer  halls.  Sentinels  were  stationed  at 
all  the  passages,  who  would  not  allow  her  to 
enter. 

"  Citizens,"  said  she,  at  last  adroitly  adopting 
the  vernacular  of  the  Jacobins,  "  in  this  day  of 
salvation  for  our  country,  in  the  midst  of  those 
traitors  who  threaten  us,  you  know  not  the  im- 
portance of  some  notes  which  I  have  to  trans- 
mit to  the  president." 

These  words  were  a  talisman.  The  doors 
were  thrown  open,  and  she  entered  the  petition- 
ers' hall.  "  I  wish  to  see  one  of  the  messengers 
of  the  House,"  she  said  to  one  of  the  inner  senti- 
nels. 

"  Wait  till  one  comes  out,"  was  the  gruff 
reply. 

She  waited  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  burn- 
ing impatience.  Her  ear  was  almost  stunned 
with  the  deafening  clamor  of  debate,  of  applause, 
of  execrations,  which  now  in  dying  murmurs, 
and  again  in  thundering  reverberations,  awak- 
ening responsive  echoes  along  the  thronged 
streets,  swelled  upon  the  night  air.  Of  all  hu- 
man sounds,  the  uproa*  of  a  countless  multi 
tnde  of  maddened  human  voices  is  the  most 
awful 


208  MADAME  ROLAWD.  [1783 


Madame  Roland's  letter. 


At  last  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  messen- 
ger who  had  summoned  her  to  appear  before 
the  bar  of  the  Assembly  in  reply  to  the  accu- 
sations of  Viard,  informed  him  of  their  peril, 
and  implored  him  to  hand  her  letter  to  the  pres- 
ident. The  messenger,  M.  Roze,  took  the  pa- 
per, and,  elbowing  his  way  through  the  throng, 
disappeared.  An  hour  elapsed,  which  seemed 
an  age.  The  tumult  within  continued  unabated 
At  length  M.  Roze  reappeared. 

"Well!"  said  Madame  Roland,  eagerly, 
"  what  has  been  done  with  my  letter  ?" 

"  I  have  given  it  to  the  president,"  was  the 
reply,  "  but  nothing  has  been  done  with  it  as 
yet.  Indescribable  confusion  prevails.  The 
mob  demand  the  accusation  of  the  Girondists. 
I  have  just  assisted  one  to  escape  by  a  private 
way.  Others  are  endeavoring,  concealed  by  the 
tumult,  to  effect  their  escape.  There  is  no 
knowing  what  is  to  happen." 

"  Alas  !"  Madame  Roland  replied,  "  my  let- 
ter will  not  be  read.  Do  send  some  deputy  to 
me,  with  whom,  I  can  speak  a  few  words." 

"Whom  shall  I  send?" 

"  Indeed  I  have  but  little  acquaintance  with 
any,  and  but  little  esteem  for  any,  except  those 
who  are  proscribed.  Tell  Vergniaud  that  I  am 
Inq  for  bJiife" 


1793.]  ARREST  OF  MADAME  ROLAND. 

Intenriew  with  Vergnlaud.  Hope 

Vergniaud,  notwithstanding  the  terrific  agi- 
tations of  the  hour,  immediately  attended  the 
summons  of  Madame  Roland.  She  implored 
him  to  try  to  get  her  admission  to  the  bar,  that 
she  might  speak  in  defense  of  her  husband  and 
her  friends. 

"In  the  present  state  of  the  Assembly,"  said 
Vergniaud,  "  it  would  be  impossible,  and  if  pos- 
sible, of  no  avail.  The  Convention  has  lost  all 
power.  It  has  become  but  the  weapon  of  the 
rabble.  Your  words  can  do  no  good." 

"  They  may  do  much  good,"  replied  Madame 
Roland.  "  I  can  venture  to  say  that  which  you 
could  not  say  without  exposing  yourself  to  ac- 
cusation. I  fear  nothing.  If  I  can  not  save 
Roland,  I  will  utter  with  energy  truths  which 
may  be  useful  to  the  Republic.  An  example 
of  courage  may  shame  the  nation." 

"  Think  how  unavailing  the  attempt,"  re- 
plied Vergniaud.  "  Your  letter  can  not  possi- 
bly be  read  for  two  or  three  hours.  A  crowd 
of  petitioners  throng  the  bar.  Noise,  and  con- 
fusion, and  violence  fill  the  House." 

Madame  Roland  paused  for  a  moment,  and 
replied,  "  I  must  then  hasten  home,  and  ascer- 
tain what  has  become  of  my  husband.  I  wilJ 
immediately  return.  Tell  our  friends  so." 

18—14 


210  MADAME  ROLAND,  (1793 

Etcape  of  1L  Roland.  BOOM  at  the  TuilerlM. 

Vergniaud  sadly  pressed  her  hand,  as  if  for  a 
last  farewell,  and  returned,  invigorated  by  her 
courage,  to  encounter  the  storm  which  was  hail- 
ed upon  him  in  the  Assembly.  She  hastened 
to  her  dwelling,  and  found  that  her  husband 
had  succeeded  in  eluding  the  surveillance  of  his 
guards,  and,  escaping  by  a  back  passage,  had 
taken  refuge  in  the  house  of  a  friend.  After  a 
short  search  she  found  him  in  his  asylum,  and, 
too  deeply  moved  to  weep,  threw  herself  into 
his  arms,  informed  him  of  what  she  had  done, 
rejoiced  at  his  safety,  and  heroically  returned 
to  the  Convention,  resolved,  if  possible,  to  ob- 
tain admission  there.  It  was  now  near  mid- 
night The  streets  were  brilliant  with  illumi- 
nations; but  Madame  Roland  knew  not  of 
which  party  these  illuminations  celebrated  the 
triumph. 

On  her  arrival  at  the  court  of  the  Tuileries, 
which  had  so  recently  been  thronged  by  a  mob 
of  forty  thousand  men,  she  found  it  silent  and 
deserted.  The  sitting  was  ended.  The  mem- 
bers, accompanied  by  the  populace  with  whom 
they  had  frater nixed,  were  traversing  the  streets. 
A  few  sentinel*  stood  shivering  in  the  cold  and 
drizzling  rain  around  the  doors  of  the  national 
palace.  A  group  of  rough -look  ing  men 


1793.]  ARREST  OF  MADAMK  ROLAND.  211 

fha  deputies  embraced  by  th»  mob.  Aneodota 

gathered  before  a  oannon.  Madame  Roland  ap- 
proached them. 

"  Citizens,"  inquired  she,  "  has  every  thing 
gone  well  to-night  ?" 

"  Oh !  wonderfully  well,"  was  the  reply. 
"  The  deputies  and  the  people  embraced,  and 
sung  the  Marseilles  Hymn,  there,  under  the  tree 
of  liberty." 

"  And  what  has  become  of  the  twenty-two 
Girondists  ?" 

"  They  are  all  to  be  arrested." 

Madame  Roland  was  almost  stunned  by  the 
61ow.  Hastily  crossing  the  court,  she  arrived 
at  her  hackney-coach.  A  very  pretty  dog,  which 
nad  lost  its  master,  followed  her.  "  Is  the  poor 
little  creature  yours  ?"  inquired  the  coachman. 
The  tones  of  kindness  with  which  he  spoke  call- 
ed up  the  first  tears  which  had  moistened  the 
eyes  of  Madame  Roland  that  eventful  night. 

"  I  should  like  him  for  my  little  boy,"  said 
the  coachman. 

Madame  Roland,  gratified  to  have,  at  such 
an  hour,  for  a  driver,  a  father  and  a  man  of 
feeling,  said,  "  Put  him  into  the  coach,  and  1 
will  take  care  of  him  for  you.  Drive  immedi- 
ately to  the  galleries  of  the  Louvre."  Madame 
Roland  caressed  the  affectionate  animal,  and, 


212  MADAMB  ROLAND.  (1793 


iladama  Roland  return*  home.  A  mother1  •  tear* 


weary  of  the  passions  of  man,  longed  for  retire- 
ment from  the  world,  and  to  seclude  herself 
with  those  animals  who  would  repay  kindness 
with  gratitude.  She  sank  back  in  her  seat,  ex- 
claiming, "  O  that  we  could  escape  from  France, 
and  find  a  home  in  the  law-governed  republic 
of  America." 

Alighting  at  the  Louvre,  she  called  upon  a 
friend,  with  whom  she  wished  to  consult  upon 
the  means  of  effecting  M.  Roland's  escape  from 
the  city.  He  had  just  gone  to  bed,  but  arose, 
conversed  about  various  plans,  and  made  an  ap- 
pointment to  meet  her  at  seven  o'clock  the  next 
morning.  Entirely  unmindful  of  herself,  she 
thought  only  of  the  rescue  of  her  friends.  Ex- 
hausted with  excitement  and  toil,  she  returned 
to  her  desolated  home,  bent  over  the  sleeping 
form  of  her  child,  and  gave  vent  to  a  mother's 
gushing  love  in  a  flood  of  tears.  Recovering 
her  fortitude,  she  sat  down  and  wrote  to  M.  Ro- 
land a  minute  account  of  all  her  proceedings.  It 
would  have  periled  his  safety  had  she  attempt- 
ed to  share  his  asylum.  The  gray  of  a  dull  and 
somber  morning  was  just  beginning  to  appear 
as  Madame  Roland  threw  herself  upon  a  bed 
for  a  few  moments  of  repose.  Overwhelmed 
by  sorrow  and  fatigue,  she  had  just  fallen  asleep, 


1793.]  ARREST  OF  MADAME  KOLAXD.  213 

irrest  of  Madame  Roland.  Her  eomporara 

when  a  band  of  armed  men  rudely  broke  into 
her  house,  and  demanded  to  be  conducted  to 
her  apartment.  She  knew  too  well  the  object 
of  the  summons.  The  order  for  her  arrest  was 
presented  her.  She  calmly  read  it,  and  re- 
quested permission  to  write  to  a  friend.  The 
request  was  granted.  When  the  note  was  fin- 
ished, the  officer  informed  her  that  it  would  be 
necessary  for  him  to  be  made  acquainted  with 
its  contents.  She  quietly  tore  it  into  frag- 
ments, and  cast  it  into  the  fire.  Then,  imprint- 
ing her  last  kiss  upon  the  cheek  of  her  uncon- 
scious child,  with  the  composure  which  such  a 
catastrophe  would  naturally  produce  in  so  he- 
roic a  mind,  she  left  her  home  for  the  prison. 
Blood  had  been  flowing  too  freely  in  Paris,  the 
guillotine  had  been  too  active  in  its  operations, 
*br  Madame  Roland  to  entertain  any  doubts 
whither  the  path  she  now  trod  was  tending. 

It  was  early  in  the  morning  of  a  bleak  and 
dismal  day  as  Madame  Roland  accompanied 
the  officers  through  the  hall  of  her  dwelling, 
where  she  had  been  the  object  of  such  enthusi- 
astic admiration  and  affection.  The  servants 
gathered  around  her,  and  filled  the  house  with 
their  lamentations.  Even  the  hardened  so) 
diers  were  moved  bv  the  scone,  and  one  of  them 


S14  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1793. 

brate  of  the  mob.  ConTerMtlon  wtth  officer*. 

exclaimed,  "How  much  you  are  beloved!" 
Madame  Roland,  who  alone  was  tranquil  in  this 
hour  of  trial,  calmly  replied,  "Because  I  love. n 
As  she  was  led  from  the  house  by  the  gens 
d'armes,  a  vast  crowd  collected  around  the  door, 
who,  believing  her  to  be  a  traitor  to  her  coun- 
try, and  in  league  with  their  enemies,  shouted, 
"A  la  guillotine!"  Unmoved  by  their  cries, 
she  looked  calmly  and  compassionately  upon  the 
populace,  without  gesture  or  reply.  One  of  the 
officers,  to  relieve  her  from  the  .insults  to  which 
she  was  exposed,  asked  her  if  she  wished  to  have 
the  windows  of  the  carriage  closed. 

"No!"  she  replied;  "oppressed  innocence 
should  not  assume  the  attitude  of  crime  and 
shame.  I  do  not  fear  the  looks  of  honest  men, 
and  I  brave  those  of  my  enemies." 

"  You  have  very  great  resolution,"  was  the 
reply,  "  thus  calmly  to  await  justice." 

"  Justice !"  she  exclaimed ;  "  were  justice 
done  I  should  not  be  here.  But  I  shall  go  to 
the  scaffold  as  fearlessly  as  I  now  proceed  to 
the  prison." 

"Roland's  flight,"  said  one  of  the  officers, 
brutally,  "  is  a  proof  of  his  guilt." 

She  indignantly  replied,  "  It  is  so  atrocious 
to  persecute  a  man  who  has  rendered  such  serv- 


1793.]  ARREST  OF  MADAME  ROLAND.  215 

/ 

Tbe  Abbmy*.  Ktodnam  of  the  jafler'i  wife. 

ices  to  the  cause  of  liberty.  His  conduct  has 
been  so  open  and  his  accounts  so  olear,  that  he 
is  perfectly  justifiable  in  avoiding  the  last  out- 
rages of  envy  and  malice.  Just  as  Aristides 
%nd  inflexible  as  Cato,  he  is  indebted  to  his  vir- 
tues for  his  enemies.  Let  them  satiate  their 
fury  upon  me.  I  defy  their  power,  and  devote 
myself  to  death.  He  ought  to  save  himself  for 
the  sake  of  his  country,  to  which  he  may  yet 
lo  good." 

When  they  arrived  at  the  prison  of  the  Ab- 
baye,  Madame  Roland  was  first  conducted  into 
a  large,  dark,  gloomy  room,  which  was  occu- 
pied by  a  number  of  men,  who,  in  attitudes  of 
the  deepest  melancholy,  were  either  pacing  the 
floor  or  reclining  upon  some  miserable  pallets 
From  this  room  she  ascended  a  narrow  and 
dirty  staircase  to  the  jailer's  apartment.  The 
jailer's  wife  was  a  kind  woman,  and  imme- 
diately felt  the  power  of  the  attractions  of  her 
fascinating  prisoner.  As  no  cell  was  yet  pro- 
vided for  her,  she  permitted  her  to  remain  in  her 
'com  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  ,The  commission- 
*rs  who  had  brought  her  to  the  prison  gave  or- 
ders that  she  should  receive  no  indulgence,  but 
be  treated  with  the  utmost  rigor.  The  instruc- 
tions, however,  being  merely  verbal,  were  but 


216  MADAME   ROLAWD.  [1793 

Madame  Roland  (inters  her  cell.  Her  fint  night  thero 

little  regarded.  She  was  furnished  with  com- 
fartable  refreshment  instead  of  the  repulsive 
prison  fare,  and,  after  breakfast,  was  permitted 
to  write  a  letter  to  the  National  Assembly  upon 
her  illegal  arrest.  Thus  passed  the  day. 

At  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  her  cell  being 
prepared,  she  entered  it  for  the  first  time.  It 
was  a  cold,  bare  room,  with  walls  blackened  by 
the  dust  and  damp  of  ages.  There  was  a  small 
fire-place  in  the  room,  and  a  narrow  window, 
with  a  double  iron  grating,  which  admitted  but 
a  dim  twilight  even  at  noon  day.  In  one  cor- 
ner  there  was  a  pallet  of  straw.  The  chill  night 
air  crept  in  at  the  unglazed  window,  and  the 
dismal  tolling  of  the  tocsin  proclaimed  that  the 
metropolis  was  still  the  scene  of  tumult  and  of 
violence.  Madame  Roland  threw  herself  upon 
her  humble  bed,  and  was  so  overpowered  by  fa- 
tigue and  exhaustion  that  she  woke  not  from 
her  dreamless  slumber  until  twelve  o'clock  of 
the  next  day. 

Eudora,  who  had  been  left  by  her  mother  in 
tte  care  of  weeping  domestics,  was  taken  by  a 
friend,  and  watch'ed  over  and  protected  with  ma- 
ternal care.  Though  Madame  Roland  never 
saw  her  idolized  child  again,  her  heart  was  com- 
forted in  the  prison  by  the  assurance  that  she 


1793.)  ARREST  OF  MADAME  ROLAND.  217 

Emb*rTM*mont  of  M.  Roland.  Hlf  escape  from  ParU 

had  found  a  home  with  those  whc,  for  her  moth- 
er's sake,  would  love  and  cherish  her. 

The  tidings  of  the  arrest  and  imprisonment 
of  Madame  Roland  soon  reached  the  ears  of  hei 
unfortunate  husband  in  his  retreat.  His  em- 
barrassment was  most  agonizing.  To  remain 
and  participate  in  her  doom,  whatever  that  doom 
might  be,  would  only  diminish  her  chances  of 
escape  and  magnify  her  peril ;  and  yet  it  seemed 
riot  magnanimous  to  abandon  his  noble  wife  to 
encounter  her  merciless  foes  alone.  The  tri- 
umphant Jacobins  were  now,  with  the  eager- 
ness of  blood-hounds,  searching  every  nook  and 
corner  in  Paris,  to  drag  the  fallen  minister  from 
his  concealment.  It  soon  became  evident  that 
no  dark  hiding-place  in  the  metropolis  could  long 
conceal  him  from  the  vigilant  search  which  was 
commenced,  and  that  he  must  seek  safety  in  pre« 
oipitate  flight.  His  friends  obtained  for  him  the 
tattered  garb  of  a  peasant.  In  a  dark  night, 
alone  and  trembling,  he  stole  from  his  retreat, 
and  commenced  a  journey  on  foot,  by  a  circuit- 
ous and  unfrequented  route,  to  gain  the  front- 
iers of  Switzerland.  He  hoped  to  find  a  tem- 
porary refuge  by  burying  himself  among  the 
lonely  passes  of  the  Alps.  A  man  can  face  his 
foo«  with  a  spirit  undaunted  and  unyielding, 


218  MADAME  ROLAND  1793 

The  re-arrest  and  escape.  Cheerful  philosophy  of  Madame  Roland 

but  he  can  not  fly  from  them  without  trembling 
as  he  looks  behind.  For  two  or  three  days, 
with  blistered  feet,  and  a  heart  agitated  even 
beyond  all  his  powers  of  stoical  endurance,  he 
toiled  painfully  along  his  dreary  journey.  As 
he  was  entering  Moulines,  his  marked  features 
were  recognized.  He  was  arrested,  taken  back 
to  Paris,  and  oast  into  prison,  where  he  lan- 
guished for  some  time.  He  subsequently  again 
made  his  escape,  and  was  concealed  by  some 
friends  in  the  vicinity  of  Rouen,  where  he  re- 
mained in  a  state  of  indescribable  suspense  and 
anguish  until  the  death  of  his  wife. 

When  Madame  Roland  awoke  from  her  long 
sleep,  instead  of  yielding  to  despair  and  sur- 
rendering herself  to  useless  repinings,  she  im- 
mediately began  to  arrange  her  cell  as  comfort- 
ably as  possible,  and  to  look  around  for  such 
sources  of  comfort  and  enjoyment  as  might  yet 
be  obtained.  The  course  she  pursued  most 
beautifully  illustrates  the  power  of  a  contented 
and  cheerful  spirit  not  only  to  alleviate  the 
pangs  of  severest  affliction,  but  to  gild  with 
comfort  even  the  darkest  of  earthly  sorrows. 
With  those  smiles  of  unaffected  affability  which' 
won  to  her  all  hearts,  she  obtained  the  favor  of 
a  small  table,  and  then  of  a  neat  white  spread 


1793.]  ARREST  OF  MADAME  ROLAND.  219 

The  cell  m«de  •  study.  Delight  of  the  Jallar  toad  bit  wife 

to  cover  it.  This  she  placed  near  the  window 
to  serve  for  her  writing-desk.  To  keep  this  ta- 
ble, which  she  prized  so  highly,  unsoiled,  she 
smilingly  told  her  keeper  that  she  should  make 
«  dining-table  of  her  stove.  A  rusty  dining-ta- 
ble  indeed  it  was.  Two  hair-pins,  which  she 
drew  from  her  own  clustering  ringlets,  she  drove 
into  a  shelf  for  pegs  to  hang  her  clothes  upon 
These  arrangements  she  made  as  cheerfully  as 
when  superintending  the  disposition  of  the  gor- 
geous furniture  in  the  palace  over  which  she 
had  presided  with  so  much  elegance  and  grace 
Having  thus  provided  her  study,  her  next  cars 
was  to  obtain  a  few  books.  She  happened  to 
have  Thomson's  Seasons,  a  favorite  volume  of 
hers,  in  her  pocket.  Through  the  jailer's  wife 
she  succeeded  in  obtaining  Plutarch's  Lives  and 
Sheridan's  Dictionary. 

The  jailer  and  his  wife  were  both  charmed 
with  their  prisoner,  and  invited  her  to  dint  with 
them  that  day.  In  the  solitude  of  her  cell  she 
oould  distinctly  hear  the  rolling  of  drums,  the 
tolling  of  bells,  and  all  those  sounds  of  tumult 
which  announced  that  the  storm  of  popular  in- 
surrection was  still  s  weeping  through  the  streets 
One  of  her  faithful  servants  called  to  see  her, 
and,  on  beholding  her  mistress  in  such  a  situa- 


V20  MADAME  ROLAND.  [17913 

Prtoon  regulation*.  COWM  tar* 

tion,  the  poor  girl  burst  into  tears.  Madame 
Roland  was,  for  a  moment,  overcome  by  this 
sensibility ;  she,  however,  soon  again  regained 
her  self-command.  She  endeavored  to  banish 
from  her  mind  all  painful  thoughts  of  her  hus- 
band and  her  child,  and  to  accommodate  her- 
self as  heroically  as  possible  to  her  situation 
The  prison  regulations  were  very  severe.  The 
government  allowed  twenty  pence  per  day  for 
the  support  of  each  prisoner.  Ten  pence  was 
to  be  paid  to  the  jailer  for  the  furniture  he  put 
into  the  cell ;  ten  pence  only  remained  for  food. 
The  prisoners  were,  however,  allowed  to  pur- 
chase  such  food  as  they  pleased  from  their  own 
purse.  Madame  Roland,  with  that  stoicism 
which  enabled  her  to  triumph  over  all  ordinary 
ills,  resolved  to  conform  to  the  prison  allowance. 
She  took  bread  and  water  alone  for  breakfast. 
The  dinner  was  coarse  meat  and  vegetables. 
The  money  she  saved  by  this  great  frugality 
she  distributed  among  the  poorer  prisoners.  The 
only  indulgence  she  allowed  herself  was  in  the 
purchase  of  books  and  flowers.  In  reading  and 
with  her  pen  she  beguiled  the  weary  days  of 
her  imprisonment.  And  though  at  times  hei 
spirit  was  overwhelmed  with  anguish  in  view  of 
her  desolate  home  and  blighted  hopes,  she  still 


1793.]  ARREST  OF  MADAME  ROLAND.  221 

Prison  employment  Madame  Roland's  serenity  of  spirit 

found  great  solace  in  the  warm  affections  which 
sprang  up  around  her,  even  in  the  uncongenial 
atmosphere  of  a  prison. 

Though  she  had  been  compelled  to  abandon 
ilJ  the  enthusiastic  dreams  of  her  youth,  she 
still  retained  confidence  in  her  faith  that  these 
dark  storms  would  ere  long  disappear  from  the 
political  horizon,  and  that  a  brighter  day  would 
soon  dawn  upon  the  nations.  No  misfortunes 
could  disturb  the  serenity  of  her  soul,  and  no 
accumulating  perils  could  daunt  her  courage. 
She  immediately  made  a  methodical  arrange- 
ment of  her  time,  so  as  to  appropriate  stated 
employment  to  every  hour.  She  cheered  her- 
self with  the  reflection  that  her  husband  was 
safe  in  his  retreat,  with  kind  friends  ready  to 
minister  to  all  his  wants.  She  felt  assured  that 
her  daughter  was  received  with  maternal  love 
by  one  who  would  ever  watch  over  her  with  the 
tenderest  care.  The  agitation  of  the  terrible 
conflict  was  over.  She  submitted  with  calm- 
ness and  quietude  to  her  lot.  After  having 
been  so  long  tossed  by  storms,  she  seemed  to  find 
a  peaceful  harbor  in  her  prison  cell,  and  her  spir- 
it wandered  back  to  those  days,  so  serene  and 
happy,  which  she  spent  with  her  books  in  the 
IHtle  chamber  beneath  her  father's  roof  She 


222  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1793 

'nteDectual  pMtlme.  Visit  from  commUsloner* 

however,  made  every  effort  in  her  power  to  re- 
gain her  freedom.  She  wrote  to  the  Assembly, 
protesting  against  her  illegal  arrest.  She  found 
all  these  efforts  unavailing.  Still,  she  gave  way 
to  no  despondency,  and  uttered  no  murmurs. 
Most  of  her  time  she  employed  in  writing  his- 
toric notices  of  the  scenes  through  which  she 
had  passed.  These  papers  she  intrusted,  for 
preservation,  to  a  friend,  who  occasionally  gained 
access  to  her.  These  articles,  written  with  great 
eloquence  and  feeling,  were  subsequently  pub- 
lished with  her  memoirs.  Having  such  resour- 
ces in  her  own  highly-cultivated  mind,  even  the 
hours  of  imprisonment  glided  rapidly  and  hap- 
pily along.  Time  had  no  tardy  flight,  and  there 
probably  might  have  been  found  many  a  lady 
in  Europe  lolling  in  a  sumptuous  carriage,  or 
reclining  upon  a  silken  couch,  who  had  far  fewer 
hours  of  enjoyment. 

One  day  some  commissioners  called  at  her 
cell,  hoping  to  extort  from  her  the  secret  of  her 
husband's  retreat.  She  looked  them  oahnly  in 
the  face,  and  saii,  "  Gentlemen,  I  know  per- 
fectly well  where  my  husband  is.  I  scorn  to 
tell  you  a  lie.  I  know  also  my  own  strength. 
And  I  assure  you  that  there  is  no  earthly  pow- 
er which  can  induce  me  to  betray  him."  The 


1793.]  ARREST  OF  MADAME  ROLAND.  223 

Madame  Roland'*  horoUm  aeoounted  •  crime. 

commissioners  withdrew,  admiring  her  heroism, 
and  convinced  that  she  was  still  able  to  wield 
an  influence  which  might  yet  bring  the  guillo- 
tine upon  their  own  necks.  Her  doom  wag 
sealed.  Her  heroism  was  her  crime.  She  was 
too  illustrious  to  live. 


224  MADAMB   ROLAND.  [1793 

fate  of  the  Oirtmdlrta.  Their  heroic  courage 


CHAPTER   X. 
FATE  OF  THE  GIRONDISTS. 

A  S  the  fate  of  the  Girondist  party,  of  which 
^*-  Madame  Roland  was  the  soul,  is  so  inti- 
mately connected  with  her  history,  we  must 
leave  her  in  the  prison,  while  we  turn  aside  to 
contemplate  the  doom  of  her  companions.  The 
portentous  thunders  of  the  approaching  storm 
had  given  such  warning  to  the  Girondists,  that 
many  had  effected  their  escape  from  Paris,  and 
in  various  disguises,  in  friendlessness  and  pov- 
erty, were  wandering  over  Europe.  Others, 
however,  were  too  proud  to  fly.  Conscious  of 
the  most  elevated  patriotic  sentiments,  and 
with  no  criminations  of  conscience,  except  for 
sacrificing  too  much  in  love  for  their  country, 
they  resolved  to  remain  firm  at  their  post,  and 
to  face  their  foes.  Calmly  and  sternly  they 
awaited  the  onset.  This  heroic  courage  did 
but  arouse  and  invigorate  their  foes.  Mercy 
had  long  since  died  in  France. 

Immediately  after  the  tumult  of  that  dread* 
fal  night  in  which  the  Convention  was  iimnda- 


1793.]    FATE  OF  THE  GIRONDISTS.        225 


fbe  UlrondijtB  In  the  Conciergerie.  Their  mUorable  oooditio*. 

ted  with  assassins  clamoring  for  blood,  twenty- 
one  of  the  Girondists  were  arrested  and  thrown 
into  the  dungeons  of  the  Conciergerie.  Impris- 
oned together,  and  fully  conscious  that  thnir 
trial  would  be  but  a  mockery,  and  that  their 
doom  was  already  sealed,  they  fortified  one  an- 
other with  all  the  consolations  which  philosophy 
and  the  pride  of  magnanimity  could  administer 
In  those  gloomy  cells,  beneath  the  level  of  the 
street,  into  whose  deep  and  grated  windows  the 
rays  of  the  noonday  sun  could  but  feebly  pene- 
trate, their  faces  soon  grew  wan,  and  wasted, 
and  haggard,  from  confinement,  the  foul  prison 
air,  and  woe. 

There  is  no  sight  more  deplorable  than  that 
of  an  accomplished  man  of  intellectual  tastes, 
accustomed  to  all  the  refinements  of  polished 
life,  plunged  into  those  depths  of  misery  from 
which  the  decencies  even  of  our  social  being  are 
excluded.  These  illustrious  statesmen  and  elo- 
quent orators,  whose  words  had  vibrated  upon 
the  ear  of  Europe,  were  transformed  into  the 
most  revolting  aspect  of  beggared  and  haggard 
misery.  Their  clothes,  ruined  by  the  humid 
filth  of  their  dungeons,  moldered  to  decay 
Unwashed,  unshorn,  in  the  loss  almost  of  the 
aspect  of  humanity,  they  became  repulsive  to 
18—15 


226  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1793 

TouthfiU  hopM  omt  ihort  Bute  of  Pmrts 

each  other.  Unsupported  by  any  of  those  con- 
solations which  religion  affords,  many  hours  of 
the  blackest  gloom  must  have  enveloped  them. 
Not  a  few  of  the  deputies  were  young  men, 
in  the  morning  of  their  energetic  being,  their 
bosoms  glowing  with  all  the  passions  of  this  tu- 
multuous world,  buoyant  with  hope,  stimulated 
by  love,  invigorated  by  perfect  health.  And 
they  found  themselves  thus  suddenly  plunged 
from  the  heights  of  honor  and  power  to  the  dis- 
mal darkness  of  the  dungeon,  from  whence  the} 
could  emerge  only  to  be  led  to  the  scaffold.  A1J 
the  bright  hopes  of  life  had  gone  down  amid  the 
gloom  of  midnight  darkness.  Several  months 
lingered  slowly  away  while  these  men  wtre 
awaiting  their  trial.  Day  after  day  they  heard 
the  tolling  of  the  tocsin,  the  reverberations  of 
the  alarm  gun,  and  the  beating  of  the  insurrec- 
tion drum,  as  the  demon  of  lawless  violence  ri- 
oted through  the  streets  of  the  blood-stained  me- 
tropolis. The  execrations  of  the  mob,  loud  and 
fiend-like,  accompanied  the  cart  of  the  con- 
demned, as  it,  rumbled  upon  the  pavements 
above  their  heads,  bearing  the  victims  of  popu- 
.ar  fury  to  the  guillotine ;  and  still,  most  stoic- 
ally, they  struggled  to  nerve  their  souls  with 
fortitude  to  meet  their  fate. 


1793.]    FATE  OF  THE  GIRONDISTS.       227 

Book*  and  friends.  Anecdote  of  Vergnland 

From  these  massive  stone  walls,  guarded  by 
triple  doors  of  iron  and  watched  by  numerous 
sentinels,  answerable  for  the  safe  custody  of 
their  prisoners  with  their  lives,  there  was  no 
possibility  of  escape.  The  rigor  of  their  impris- 
onment was,  consequently,  somewhat  softened 
as  weeks  passed  on,  and  they  were  occasionally 
permitted  to  see  their  friends  through  the  iron 
wicket.  Books,  also,  aided  to  relieve  the  tedium 
of  confinement.  The  brother-in-law  of  Vergn- 
iaud  came  to  visit  him,  and  brought  with  him 
his  son,  a  child  ten  years  of  age.  The  features 
of  the  fair  boy  reminded  Vergniaud  of  his  be- 
oved  sister,  and  awoke  mournfully  in  his  heart 
f.he  remembrance  of  departed  joys.  When  the 
child  saw  his  uncle  imprisoned  like  a  malefac- 
tor, his  cheeks  haggard  and  sunken,  his  matted 
hair  straggling  over  his  forehead,  his  long  beard 
disfiguring  his  face,  and  his  clothes  hanging  in 
tatters,  he  clung  to  his  father,  affrighted  by  the 
sad  sight,  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  My  child,"  said  Vergniaud,  kindly,  taking 
him  in  his  arms,  "  look  well  at  me.  When  yon 
are  a  man,  you  can  say  that  you  saw  Vergn- 
iaud, the  founder  of  the  Republic,  at  the  most 
glorious  period,  and  in  the  most  splendid  cos- 
tame  he  ever  wore — that  in  which  he  suffered 


228  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1793 

Sentiment*  of  the  QlrondlaU  Inscribed  on  the  prison  walla. 


unmerited  persecution,  and  in  which  he  prepar- 
ed to  die  for  liberty."  These  words  produced 
a  deep  impression  upon  the  mind  of  the  child. 
He  remembered  them  to  repeat  them  after  the 
lapse  of  half  a  century. 

The  cells  in  which  they  were  imprisoned  stii. 
remain  as  they  were  left  on  the  morning  b» 
which  these  illustrious  men  were  led  to  theii 
execution.  On  the  dingy  walls  of  stone  are  still 
recorded  those  sentiments  which  they  had  in 
scribed  there,  and  which  indicate  the  nature  of 
those  emotions  which  animated  and  sustained 
them.  These  proverbial  maxims  and  heroic  ex 
pressions,  gleaned  from  French  tragedies  or  the 
classic  page,  were  written  with  the  blood  which 
they  had  drawn  from  their  own  veins.  In  one 
place  is  carefully  written, 

4  Quand  il  n'a  pu  sauver  la  libertfc  de  Rome, 
Caton  eat  libra  encore  et  suit  mourir  en  bornme." 

'  When  he  no  longer  had  pover  to  preterit  the  liberty  of  ROHM 
Cato  itill  vat  free,  and  knew  koto  to  die  f+r  man." 

Again, 

"  Oui/virtua  non  deest 
Ille  nunquam  omnino  miser." 

"  Ht  who  retain*  hit  integrity 
Can  ntoer  be  wholly  mittrmbl*." 

IB  another  place, 


L793.]    FATE  OF  THE  GIRONDISTS.        229 

HeetlnionU  of  the  Girondists  inecribtd  on  the  prUoa  walla. 


"  La  vraie  libertfe  eat  celle  de  1'ame." 
"True  liberty  it  that  of  the  tend." 

On  a  beam  was  written, 

"  Dignum  oerte  Deo  spectaoulum  fortem  vi- 
rum  cum  oalamitate  oolmctantem." 

"  Even  God  may  look  with  pleasure  upon  a 
brave  man  struggling  against  adversity." 

Again, 

'Quels  Bolides  appui  dans  le  malheur  supreme! 
J'ai  pour  moi  ma  vertu,  1'fequitfe,  Dieu  mftme." 

'  How  rubstantial  the  consolation  in  the  greatest  calamity 
I  have  for  mine,  my  virtue,  juttice,  God  kimielf." 

Beneath  this  was  written, 

"  Le  jour  n'est  pas  plus  pur  qua  le  fond  de  mon  coBur." 
"  The  day  it  not  more  pure  than  the  deptht  of  my  heart." 

In  large  letters  of  blood  there  was  inscribed, 
In  the  hand- writing  of  Vergniaud, 

"  Potius  mori  quam  fadari." 

"  Death  it  preferable  to  dithonor. " 

But  one  sentence  is  recorded  there  which 
oould  be  considered  strictly  of  a  religious  char 
aoter.  It  was  taken  from  the  "  Imitation  of 
Christ." 

"  Remember  that  you  are  not  called  to  a  life 
of  indulgence  and  pleasure,  but  to  toil  and  to 
suffer." 


230  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1793 

La  Source  and  Sillerr.  Their  eveainf  dbft 

La  Source  and  Sillery,  two  very  devoted 
friends,  occupied  a  cell  together.  La  Source 
was  a  devoted  Christian,  and  found,  in  the  con- 
solations  of  piety,  an  unfailing  support.  Sil- 
lery  possessed  a  feeling  heart,  and  was  soothed 
and  comforted  by  the  devotion  of  his  friend. 
La  Source  composed  a  beautiful  hymn,  adapted 
to  a  sweet  and  solemn  air,  which  they  called 
their  evening  service.  Night  after  night  this 
mournful  dirge  was  heard  gently  issuing  from 
the  darkness  of  their  cell,  in  tones  so  melodious 
and  plaintive  that  they  never  died  away  from 
the  memory  of  those  who  heard  them.  It  is 
difficult  to  conceive  of  any  thing  more  affecting 
than  this  knell,  so  softly  uttered  at'midnight  in 
those  dark  and  dismal  dungeons. 

"  Calm  all  the  tumults  that  invade 

Our  souls,  and  lend  thy  powerful  aid. 

Oh  !  source  of  mercy !  soothe  our  pains, 

And  break,  0  break  our  cruel  chains ! 

To  Thee  the  captive  pours  his  cry, 

To  Thee  the  mourner  loves  to  fly. 

The  incense  of  our  tears  receive — 

'Tis  all  the  incense  we  can  give. 
•'  Eternal  Pdwer !  our  cause  defend, 

0  God !  of  innocence  the  friend. 

Near  Thee  forever  she  resides, 

In  Thee  forever  she  confides. 

Thou  know'st  the  secrets  of  the  breast : 

Thou  knowV  the  oppressor  and  the  oppreM'4 


1793.]    FATE  OF  THE  GIRONDISTS.       231 

DM  day  of  trial.  The  mUnamod  Hall*  of  Juttoa 

Do  thou  our  wrongs  with  pity  see, 
Avert  a  doom  offending  thee. 
•'  But  should  the  murderer's  arm  prevail ) 
Should  tyranny  our  lives  assail ; 
Unmoved,  triumphant,  scorning  death, 
We'll  bless  Thee  with  our  latest  breath. 
The  hour,  the  glorious  hour  will  come, 
That  consecrates  the  patriots'  tomb ; 
And  with  the  pang  our  memory  claims, 
Our  country  will  avenge  our  names." 

Summer  had  come  and  gone  while  these  dis» 
tinguished  prisoners  were  awaiting  their  doom. 
World-weary  and  sick  at  heart,  they  still  strug- 
gled to  sustain  each  other,  and  to  meet  their 
dreadful  fate  with  heroic  constancy.  The  day 
for  their  trial  at  length  arrived.  It  was  the 
20th  of  October,  1793.  They  had  long  been 
held  up  before  the  mob,  by  placards  and  impas- 
sioned harangues,  as  traitors  to  their  country, 
and  the  populace  of  Paris  were  clamorous  for 
their  consignment  to  the  guillotine.  They  were 
led  from  the  dungeons  of  the  Conoiergerie  tc 
the  misnamed  Halls  of  Justice.  A  vast  con 
course  of  angry  men  surrounded  the  tribunal, 
and  filled  the  air  with  execrations.  Paris  that 
day  presented  the  aspect  of  a  camp.  The  Jao- 
•bins,  conscious  that  there  were  still  thousands 
of  the  most  influential  of  the  citizens  who  re- 
garded tha  Girondists  with  veneration  as  inoor- 


232  MADAME   ROLAND.  [171K1 

Frecaotionj  of  thn  J»oobin*.  Demeanor  of  tha  prtMMn 

mptible  patriots,  determined  to  prevent  the  pos- 
sibility of  a  rescue.  They  had  some  cause  tc 
apprehend  a  counter  revolution.  They  there- 
fore  gathered  around  the  scene  of  trial  all  that 
imposing  military  array  which  they  had  at  then 
disposal.  Cavalry,  with  plumes,  and  helmets, 
and  naked  sabers,  were  sweeping  the  streets, 
that  no  accumulations  of  the  multitude  might 
gather  force.  The  pavements  trembled  beneath 
the  rumbling  wheels  of  heavy  artillery,  ready 
to  belch  forth  their  storm  of  grape-shot  upon 
any  opposing  foe.  Long  lines  of  infantry,  with 
loaded  muskets  and  glittering  bayonets,  guard- 
ed all  the  avenues  to  the  tribunal,  where  ran- 
corous passion  sat  enthroned  in  mockery  upon 
the  seat  of  justice. 

The  prisoners  had  nerved  themselves  sternly 
to  meet  this  crisis  of  their  doom.  Two  by  two, 
in  solemn  procession,  they  marched  to  the  bar 
of  judgment,  and  took  their  seat  upon  benches 
surrounded  by  gens  d'armes  and  a  frowning  pop 
tilace,  and  arraigned  before  judges  already  de- 
termined upon  their  doom.  The  eyes  of  the 
world  were,  however,  upon  them.  The  accus- 
ed were  illustrious  in  integrity,  in  rank,  in  tal- 
ent. In  the  distant  provinces  there  were  thou- 
sands who  were  their  friends.  It  was  necessary 


L793.J    FATE  OF  THE  GIRONDISTS        233 

The  trial  and  condemnation.  Death  of  ValaM 


to  go  through  the  formality  of  a  trial.  A  few 
of  the  accused  still  clung  to  the  hope  of  life. 
They  vainly  dreamed  it  possible  that,  by  si- 
lence, and  the  abandonment  of  themselves  to 
the  resistless  power  by  which  they  were  crush- 
ed, some  mercy  might  be  elicited.  It  was  a 
weakness  unworthy  of  these  great  men.  But 
there  are  few  minds  which  can  remain  firm 
while  immured  for  months  in  the  wasting  mis- 
ery of  a  dungeon.  In  those  glooms  the  sinews 
of  mental  energy  wither  with  dying  hope.  The 
trial  continued  for  a  week.  On  the  30th  of  Oc- 
tober, at  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  the  verdict  was 
Drought  in.  They  were  all  declared  guilty  of 
naving  conspired  against  the  Republic,  and 
were  condemned  to  death.  With  the  light  of 
the  next  morning's  sun  they  were  to  be  led  to 
the  guillotine. 

As  the  sentence  was  pronounced,  one  of  the 
accused,  M.  Valaze,  made  a  motion  with  his 
hand,  as  if  to  tear  his  garment,  and  fell  from 
his  seat  upon  the  floor.  "What,  Valaz6,"  said 
Brissot,  striving  to  support  him,  "are  you  los- 
ing your  courage  ?"  "  No,"  replied  Valaze, 
faintly,  "  I  am  dying ;"  and  he  expired,  with 
his  hand  still  grasping  the  hilt  of  the  dagger 
with  which  he  had  pierced  his  heart.  For  a 


234  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1793 

Vwtau  emotion*.  Return  to  the  Concforgwfe 

moment  it  was  a  scene  of  unutterable  horror 
The  condemned  gathered  sadly  around  the  re- 
mains of  their  lifeless  companion.  Some,  who 
had  confidently  expected  acquittal,  overcome 
by  the  near  approach  of  death,  yielded  to  mo- 
mentary weakness,  and  gave  utterance  to  rr 
proaches  and  lamentations.  Others,  pale  and 
stupefied,  gazed  around  in  moody  silence.  One, 
in  the  delirium  of  enthusiasm,  throwing  his 
arms  above  his  head,  shouted,  "  This  is  the 
most  glorious  day  of  my  life !"  Vergniaud, 
seated  upon  the  highest  bench,  with  the  com- 
posure of  philosophy  and  piety  combined,  look- 
ed upon  the  scene,  exulting  in  the  victory  his 
own  spirit  had  achieved  over  peril  and  death. 

The  weakness  which  a  few  displayed  was 
but  momentary.  They  rallied  their  energies 
boldly  to  meet  their  inevitable  doom.  They 
gathered  for  a  moment  around  the  corpse  of 
their  lifeless  companion,  and  were  then  formed 
in  procession,  to  march  back  to  their  ceils.  It 
was  midnight  as  the  condemned  Girondists 
were  led  from  the  bar  of  the  Palace  of  Justice 
back  to  the  dungeons  of  the  Conciergerie,  there 
to  wait  till  the  swift- winged  hours  should  bring 
the  dawn  which  was  to  guide  their  steps  to  the 
guillotine.  Their  presence  of  mind  had  no* 


1793.]    FATE  OF  THE  GIRONDISTS.       235 

The  Girondist*  exultingly  ling  the  MarsefllaUe  Hymn. 


returned,  and  their  bosoms  glowed  with  the 
loftiest  enthusiasm.  In  fulfillment  of  a  prom- 
ise they  had  made  their  fellow-prisoners,  to  in- 
form them  of  their  fate  by  the  echoes  of  their 
voices,  they  burst  into  the  Marseillaise  Hymn. 
The  vaults  of  the  Conciergerie  rang  with  the 
song  as  they  shouted,  in  tones  of  exultant  en- 


"  Aliens,  enfans  de  la  patrie, 

Le  jour  de  glorie  est  arrivfe, 
Centre  nous  de  la  tyrannie 
L'etendard  sanglant  eat  Iev6. 

"  Come  !  children  of  your  country,  come  ! 

The  day  of  glory  dawns  on  high, 
And  tyranny  has  wide  unfurl'd 

Her  blood-stain'd  banner  in  the  sky." 

It  was  their  death-knell.  As  they  were  slowly 
led  along  through  the  gloomy  corridors  of  their 
prison  to  the  cells,  these  dirge-like  wailings  of 
a  triumphant  song  penetrated  the  remotest  dun- 
geons of  that  dismal  abode,  and  roused  every 
wretched  head  from  its  pallet.  The  arms  of 
the  guard  clattered  along  the  stone  floor  of  the 
subterranean  caverns,  and  the  unhappy  victims 
of  the  Revolution,  roused  from  the  temporary 
oblivion  of  sleep,  or  from  dreams  of  the  homes 
of  refinement  and  luxury  from  which  they  had 
taen  torn,  glared  through  the  iron  gratings 


236  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1793 

The  Otrondiita  prepare  for  the  last  (ceoe.  Brutal  daerea 

upon  the  melancholy  procession,  and  uttered  last 
words  of  adieu  to  those  whose  fate  they  almost 
envied.  The  acquittal  of  the  Girondists  would 
have  given  them  some  little  hope  that  they  also 
might  find  mercy.  Now  they  sunk  back  upon 
their  pillows  in  despair,  and  lamentations  and 
wailings  filled  the  prison. 

The  condemned,  now  that  their  fate  was  seal- 
ed,  had  laid  aside  all  weakness,  -and,  mutually 
encouraging  one  another,  prepared  as  martyrs 
to  encounter  the  last  stern  trial.  They  were 
all  placed  in  one  large  room  opening  into  sev- 
eral  cells,  and  the  lifeless  body  of  their  compan- 
ion was  deposited  in  one  of  the  corners.  By  a 
decree  of  the  tribunal,  the  still  warm  and  bleed- 
ing  remains  of  Valaze  were  to  be  carried  back 
to  the  cell,  and  to  be  conveyed  the  next  morn- 
ing, in  the  same  cart  with  the  prisoners,  to  the 
guillotine.  The  ax  was  to  sever  the  head  from 
the  lifeless  body,  and  all  the  headless  trunks 
were  to  be  interred  together. 

A  wealthy  friend,  who  had  escaped  proscrip- 
tion, and  was  concealed  in  Paris,  had  agreed  to 
send  them  a  sumptuous  banquet  the  night  aftei 
their  trial,  which  banquet  was  to  prove  to  them 
r  funeral  repast  or  a  triumphant  feast,  accord- 
ing TO  the  verdict  af  acquittal  or  condemnation 


1793.1     KATE   OF   THE    GIRONDISTS.     237 


Lait  (out  of  tb«  Girwutirt*.  Strange  «<:e.ne 

Their  friond  kept  his  word.  Soon  after  the  pris- 
oners were  remanded  to  their  cell,  a  table  was 
spread,  and  preparations  were  made  for  their 
last  supper.  There  was  a  large  oaken  table  in 
the  prison,  where  those  awaiting  their  trial,  and 
those  awaiting  their  execution,  met  for  their 
coarse  prison  fare.  A  rich  cloth  was  spread  upon 
that  table.  Servants  entered,  bearing  brilliant 
lamps,  which  illuminated  the  dismal  vault  with 
an  unnatural  luster,  and  spread  the  glare  of 
noon-day  light  upon  the  miserable  pallets  of 
straw,  the  rusty  iron  gratings  and  chains,  and 
the  stone  walls  weeping  with  moisture,  which 
no  ray  of  the  sun  or  warmth  of  fire  ever  dried 
away.  It  was  a  strange  scene,  that  brilliant 
festival,  in  the  midst  of  the  glooms  of  the  most 
dismal  dungeon,  with  one  dead  body  lying  upon 
the  floor,  and  those  for  whom  the  feast  was  pre- 
pared waiting  only  for  the  early  dawn  to  light 
them  to  their  death  and  burial.  The  richest 
viands  of  meats  and  wines  were  brought  hi  and 
placed  before  the  condemned.  Vases  of  flowers 
iH'used  their  fragrance  and  expanded  their  beau- 
ty where  flowers  were  never  seen  to  blocrn  be* 
fore.  Wan  and  haggard  faces,  unwashed  and 
unshorn,  gazed  upon  the  unwonted  spectacle, 
us  dazzling  flambeaux,  and  rich  table  furniture.. 


238  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1793. 

Fhe  Abb*  Lambert  HI*  memoranda. 

and  bouquets,  and  costly  dishes  appeared,  one 
after  another,  until  the  board  was  covered  with 
Luxury  and  splendor. 

In  silence  the  condemned  took  their  places  al 
the  table.  They  were  men  of  brilliant  intellects, 
of  enthusiastic  eloquence,  thrown  suddenly  from 
the  heights  of  power  to  the  foot  of  the  sctJfold. 
A  priest,  the  Abbe  Lambert,  the  intimate  per- 
sonal friend  of  several  of  the  most  eminent  of 
the  Girondists,  had  obtained  admittance  into 
the  prison  to  accompany  his  friends  to  the  guil- 
lotine, and  to  administer  to  them  the  last  con- 
solations of  religion.  He  stood  in  the  corridor, 
looking  through  the  open  door  upon  those  as- 
sembled around  the  table,  and,  with  his  pencil 
in  his  hand,  noted  down  their  words,  their  ges- 
tures, their  sighs — their  weakness  and  their 
strength.  It  is  to  him  that  we  are  indebted  for 
all  knowledge  of  the  sublime  scenes  enacted  at 
the  last  supper  of  the  Girondists.  The  repast 
was  prolonged  until  the  dawn  of  morning  began 
to  steal  faintly  in  at  the  grated  windows  of  the 
prison  and  the  gathering  tumult  without  w* 
nounoed  the  preparations  to  conduct  them  to 
their  execution. 

Vergniaud,  the  most  prominent  and  the  moet 
eloquent  of  their  number,  presided  at  the  foast 


1793.]    FATE  OP  THE  GIRONDISTS.        239 

Vecgniaud  preside!  at  the  feast  Unnatural  gayety 

He  had  little,  save  the  love  of  glory,  to  bind  him 
to  life,  for  he  had  neither  father  nor  mother, 
wife  nor  child;  and  he  doubted  not  that  pos- 
terity would  do  him  justice,  and  that  his  death 
would  be  the  most  glorious  act  of  his  life.  No 
one  could  imagine,  from  the  calm  and  subdued 
conversation,  and  the  quiet  appetite  with  which 
these  distinguished  men  partook  of  the  enter- 
tainment, that  this  was  their  last  repast,  and 
but  the  prelude  to  a  violent  death.  But  when 
the  cloth  was  removed,  and  the  fruits,  the  wines, 
and  the  flowers  alone  remained,  the  conversa- 
tion became  animated,  gay,  and  at  times  rose 
to  hilarity.  Several  of  the  youngest  men  of  the 
party,  in  sallies  of  wit  and  outbursts  of  laugh- 
ter, endeavored  to  repel  the  gloom  which  dark- 
ened their  spirits  in  view  of  death  on  the  mor- 
row. It  was  unnatural  gayety,  unreal,  un- 
worthy of  the  men.  Death  is  not  a  jest,  and  no 
one  can  honor  himself  by  trying  to  make  it  so. 
A  spirit  truly  noble  can  encounter  this  king  of 
terrors  with  lortitude,  but  never  with  levity. 
Still,  now  and  then,  shouts  of  laughter  and  8ong& 
of  merriment  burst  from  the  lips  of  these  young 
men,  as  they  endeavored,  with  a  kind  of  hys- 
terical energy,  to  nerve  themselves  tt  show  to 
their  enemies  their  contempt  of  life  and  of  death. 


240  MADAME   ROLAND.  |17lJo 

LMt  thoughts.  Religion,  philosophy,  ud  Uftdelity 

Others  were  more  thoughtful,  serene,  and  truly 
brave. 

"  What  shall  we  be  doing  to-morrow  at  this 
timo>  ?"  said  Ducos. 

All  paused.  Religion  had  its  hopes,  philos- 
ophy its  dreams,  infidelity  its  dreary  blank. 
Each  answered  according  to  his  faith.  "We 
shall  sleep  after  the  fatigues  of  the  day,"  said 
some,  "  to  wake  no  more."  Atheism  had  dark- 
ened  their  minds.  "  Death  is  an  eternal  sleep,'' 
had  become  their  gloomy  creed.  They  looked 
forward  to  the  slide  of  the  guillotine  as  ending 
all  thought,  and  consigning  them  back  to  that 
non-existence  from  which  they  had  emerged  at 
their  creation.  "  No !"  replied  Fauohet,  Carru, 
and  others,  "  annihilation  is  not  our  destiny 
We-  are  immortal.  These  bodies  may  perish 
These  living  thoughts,  these  boundless  aspira- 
tions, can  never  die.  To-morrow,  far  away  in 
other  worlds,  we  shall  think,  and  feel,  and  act 
and  solve  the  problems  of  the  immaterial  des- 
tiny of  the  human  mind."  Immortality  wa* 
the  theme.  The  song  was  hushed  upon  thetff 
dying  lips.  The  forced  laughter  fainted  awaj . 
Standing  upon  the  brink  of  that  dread  abyss 
from  whence  no  one  has  returned  with  tidings, 
every  soul  felt  a  longing  for  immortality.  They 


1793.J    FATE  OF  THI   GIRONDISTS.       241 

Eloquence  of  Vergnlv ad.  Argnrnoct  for  Immortality 

turned  to  Vergniaud,  whose  brilliant  intellect, 
whose  soul-moving  eloquence,  whose  spotless 
life  commanded  their  reverence,  and  appealed 
to  him  for  light,  and  truth,  and  consolation. 
His  words  are  lost.  The  effect  of  his  discourse 
alone  is  described.  "  Never,''  Gaid  the  abbe 
"  had  his  look,  his  gesture,  his  language,  and 
his  voice  more  profoundly  affected  his  hearers." 
In  the  conclusion  of  a  discourse  which  is  de- 
scribed as  one  of  almost  superhuman  eloquence, 
during  which  some  were  aroused  to  the  most 
exalted  enthusiasm,  all  were  deeply  moved,  and 
many  wept,  Vergniaud  exclaimed, 

"  Death  is  but  the  greatest  act  of  life,  since 
it  gives  birth  to  a  higher  state  of  existenca 
Were  it  not  thus  there  would  be  something 
greater  than  God.  It  would  be  the  just  man 
immolating  himself  uselessly  and  hopelessly  for 
his  country.  This  supposition  is  a  folly  of  blas- 
phemy, and  I  repel  it  with  contempt  E".d  hor- 
ror. No!  Vergniaud  is  not  greater  than  God, 
but  God  is  more  just  than  Vergniaud ;  and  He 
will  not  to-morrow  suffer  him  to  ascend  a  scaf- 
fold but  to  justify  and  avenge  him  in  future 
ages." 

And  now  the  light  of  day  began  to  stream  io 

at  the  windows.     "  Let  us  go  to  bed,"  said  one, 
18—16 


MAD'AME    ROLAND.  [179& 

LMt  preparttioBi.  Arrival  of  the  eiecutionert. 

"  and  sleep  until  we  are  called  to  go  forth  to  oui 
Last  sleep.  Life  is  a  thing  so  trifling  that  it  is 
not  worth  the  hour  of  sleep  we  lose  in  regret- 
ting it." 

"  Let  us  rather  watch,"  said  another,  "dur- 
ing the  few  moments  which  remain  to  us.  Eter- 
nity is  so  certain  and  so  terrible  that  a  thou 
sand  lives  would  not  suffice  to  prepare  for  it." 

They  rose  from  the  table,  and  most  of  them 
retired  to  their  cells  and  threw  themselves  upon 
their  beds  for  a  few  moments  of  bodily  repose 
and  meditation.  Thirteen,  however,  remained 
in  the  larger  apartment,  finding  a  certain  kind 
of  support  in  society.  In  a  low  tone  of  voice 
they  conversed  with  each  other.  They  were 
worn  out  with  excitement,  fatigue,  and  want 
of  sleep.  Some  wept.  Sleep  kindly  came  to 
some,  and  lulled  their  spirits  into  momentary 
oblivion. 

At  ten  o'clock  the  iron  doors  grated  on  their 
hinges,  and  the  tramp  of  the  gens  d'armes,  with 
the  clattering  of  their  sabers,  was  heard  rever 
berating  through  the  gloomy  corridors  and  vaults 
of  their  dungeon,  as  they  came,  with  the  exe 
cutioners.  to  lead  the  condemned  to  the  scaffold. 
Their  long  hair  was  cut  from  their  necks,  that 
the  ax,  with  unobstructed  edge,  might  do  it* 


L793.J    FATE  OP  THE  GIRONDISTS.        243 

Bouvomru  to  friend*.  The  carts  of  the  condemned. 


work.  Each  one  left  some  simple  and  affecting 
souvenir  to  friends.  Gensonne  picked  up  a  look 
of  his  black  hair,  and  gave  it  to  the  Abbe  Lam- 
bert o  give  to  his  wife  "  Tell  her,"  said  he, 
u  that  it  is  the  only  memorial  of  my  love  which  I 
can  transmit  to  her,  and  that  my  last  thoughts 
in  death  were  hers."  Vergniaud  drew  from  his 
pocket  his  watch,  and,  with  his  knife,  scratched 
upon  the  case  a  few  lir  Qs  of  tender  remembrance, 
and  sent  the  token  to  a  young  lady  to  whom  he 
was  devotedly  attached,  and  to  whom  he  was  ere 
long  to  have  been  married.  Each  gave  to  the 
abbe  some  legacy  of  affection  to  be  conveyed  to 
loved  ones  who  were  to  be  left  behind.  Few 
emotions  are  stronger  in  the  hour  of  death  thar 
the  desire  to  be  embalmed  in  the  affections  of 
those  who  are  dear  to  us. 

All  being  ready,  the  gens  d'armes  marched 
the  condemned,  in  a  column,  into  the  prison 
yard,  where  five  rude  carts  were  awaiting  them, 
to  convey  them  to  the  scaffold.  The^  countless 
thousands  of  Paris  were  swarming  around  the 
prison,,  filling  the  court,  and  rolling,  like  ocean 
tides,  into  every  adjacent  avenue.  Each  cart 
contained  five  persons,  with  the  exception  cf  the 
last,  into  which  the  dead  body  of  Valaze  had 
.been  cast  with  four  of  his  living  companions. 


244  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1703. 

Enthui!a«n  of  the  GlrondliU.  Tto  tot  erabnea 


And  now  came  to  the  Girondists  their  hour 
of  triumph.  Heroism  rose  exultant  over  all  ills. 
The  brilliant  sun  and  the  elastic  air  of  an  Ooto- 
ber  morning  invigorated  their  bodies,  and  the 
§cene  of  sublimity  through  which  they  were 
passing  stimulated  their  spirits  to  the  highest 
pitch  of  enthusiasm.  As  the  carts  moved  from 
the  court-yard,  with  one  simultaneous  voice, 
clear  and  sonorous,  the  Girondists  burst  into 
the  Marseillaise  Hymn.  The  crowd  gazed  in 
silence  as  this  funereal  chant,  not  like  the  wail- 
ings  of  a  dirge,  but  like  the  strains  of  an  exult- 
ant song,  swelled  and  died  away  upon  the  air. 
Here  and  there  some  friendly  voice  among  the 
wpulaoe  ventured  to  swell  the  volume  of  sound 
as  the  significant  words  were  uttered, 

"  Contre  nous  de  la  tyrannie 

L'fetendard  sanglant  eat  levfe." 

"  And  tyranny  has  wide  unforl'd 

Her  blood-ataiu'd  banner  in  the  iky." 

At  the  end  of  each  verse  their  voices  sank  loi 

• 

a  moment  into  silence.  The  strain  was  then 
again  renewed*,  loud  and  sonorous.  On  arriv- 
ing at  the  scaffold,  they  all  embraced  In  one 
long,  last  adieu.  It  was  a  token  of  their  com- 
munion  in  death  as  in  life.  They  then,  in  con- 
cert, loudly  and  firmly  resumed  their  funereal 


1793.]    FATE  OF  THE  QIBONDISTS.        245 

HM  Mention.  Fortitude  of  Vergniaud. 

ohaiit.  One  ascended  the  scaffold,  continuing 
the  song  with  his  companions.  He  was  bound 
to  the  plank.  Still  his  voice  was  heard  full  and 
strong.  The  plank  slowly  fell.  Still  his  voice, 
vrithout  a  tremor,  joined  in  the  triumphant  cho- 
rus. The  glittering  ax  glided  like  lightning 
down  the  groove.  His  head  fell  into  the  basket, 
and  one  voice  was  hushed  forever.  Another 
ascended,  and  another,  and  another,  each  with 
the  song  bursting  loudly  from  his  lips,  till  death 
ended  the  strain.  There  was  no  weakness.  No 
step  trembled,  no  cheek  paled,  no  voice  faltered. 
But  each  succeeding  moment  the  song  grew 
more  faint  as  head  after  head  fell,  and  the  bleed- 
ing bodies  were  piled  side  by  side.  At  last  one 
voice  alone  continued  the  song.  It  was  that 
of  Vergniaud,  the  most  illustrious  of  them  all. 
Long  confinement  had  spread  deathly  pallor  over 
his  intellectual  features,  but  firm  and  daunt- 
less, and  with  a  voice  of  surpassing  richness,  he 
continued  the  solo  into  which  the  chorus  had 
now  died  away.  Without  the  tremor  of  a 
nerve,  he  mounted  the  scaffold.  For  a  moment 
he  stood  in  silence,  as  he  looked  down  upon  the 
lifeless  bodies  of  his  friends,  and  around  upon 
the  overawed  multitude  gazing  in  silent  admi- 
ration upon  this  heroic  enthusiasm.  As  he  then 


JJ46  MADAME    ROLAWD.  [1793 

Burial  of  the  txxK.».  Errors  ef  the  Glrondlito 

surrendered  himself  to  the  executioner,  he  com 
menced  anew  the  strain, 

"  Aliens !  enfans  de  la  patrie, 
Le  jour  de  gloire  eat  arrivfe." 

"  Come !  children  of  your  country,  come ! 
The  day  of  glory  dawns  on  high." 

In  the  midst  of  the  exultant  tones,  the  ax  glided 
on  its  bloody  mission,  and  those  lips,  which  had 
guided  the  storm  of  revolution,  and  whose  patri- 
otic appeals  had  thrilled  upon  the  ear  of  France, 
were  silent  in  death.  Thus  perished  the  Gi- 
rondists, the  founders  of  the  Republic  and  its 
victims.  Their  votes  consigned  Louis  and  Ma- 
ria to  the  guillotine,  and  they  were  the  first  to 
follow  them.  One  cart  conveyed  the  twenty- 
one  bodies  away,  and  they  were  thrown  into 
one  pit,  by  the  side  of  the  grave  of  Louis  XVI. 
They  committed  many  errors.  Few  minds 
could  discern  distinctly  the  path  of  truth  and 
duty  through  the  clouds  and  vapors  of  those 
stormy  times.  But  they  were  most  sincerely 
devoted  to  the  liberties  of  France.  They  over- 
threw  the  moharchy,  and  established  the  Re- 
public. They  died  because  they  refused  to  open 
those  sluice-ways  of  blood  which  the  people  de- 
manded. A  few  of  the  Girondists  had  made 
their  escape.  Petion,  Buzot,  Barbaroux,  and 


1793.J    FATE  OP  THE  GIRONDISTS.        249 

Kacape  of  Qandet  and  other*.         The  Jacobin*  clamor  for  more  blood 

Gaudet  wandered  in  disguise,  and  hid  them 
selves  in  the  caves  of  wild  and  unfrequented 
mountains.  La  Fayette,  who  was  one  of  tht 
most  noble  and  illustrious  apostles  of  this  creed, 
was  saved  from  the  guillotine  by  weary  years 
of  imprisonment  in  the  dungeons  of  Olmutz. 
Madame  Roland  lingered  in  her  cell,  striving 
to  maintain  serenity,  while  her  soul  was  tor- 
tured  with  the  tidings  of  carnage  and  woe  which 
every  morning's  dawn  brought  to  her  ears. 

The  Jacobins  were  now  more  and  more  clam- 
orous for  blood.  They  strove  to  tear  La  Fay- 
ette from  his  dungeon,  that  they  might  triumph 
in  his  death.  They  pursued,  with  implacable 
vigilance,  the  Girondists  who  had  escaped  from 
their  fury.  They  trained  blood-hounds  to  scent 
them  out  in  their  wild  retreats,  where  they  were 
suffering,  from  cold  and  starvation,  all  that  hu- 
man nature  can  possibly  endure.  For  a  time, 
five  of  them  lived  together  in  a  cavern,  thirty 
feet  in  depth  This  cavern  had  a  secret  com- 
munication with  the  cellar  of  a  house.  Their 
generous  hostess,  periling  her  own  life  for  them, 
daily  supplied  them  with  food.  She  could  fur- 
nish them  only  with  the  most  scanty  fare,  le«t 
•he  should  be  betrayed  by  the  purchase  of  pro- 
visions necessary  for  so  many  mouths.  It  wa» 


250  MADAMB   ROLAND.  [1793 

Mora  Girondists  executed.  Fat*  of  Pttion  and  Boaot 

mid-winter.     No  fire  warmed  them  in  theii 
damp  and  gloomy  vault,  and  this  living  burial 
must  have  been  worse  than  death.     The  search 
became  so  rigid  that  it  was  necessary  for  them 
to  disperse.    One  directed  his  steps  toward  the 
Pyrenees.     He    was    arrested    and    executed. 
Three  toiled  along  by  night,  through  cold,  and 
snow,  and  rain,  the  keen  wind  piercing  their 
tattered  garments,  till  their  sufferings  made 
them  reckless  of  life.     They  were  arrested,  and 
found,  in  the  blade  of  the  guillotine,  a  refuge 
from  their  woes.     At  last  all  were  taken  and 
executed  but  Petion  and  Buzot.     Their  fate  is 
involved  in  mystery.     None  can  tell  what  their 
sufferings  were  during  the  days  and  the  nights 
of  their  weary  wanderings,  when  no  eye  but 
that  of  God  could  see  them.     Some  peasants 
found  among  the  mountains,  where  they  had 
taken  refuge,  human  remains  rent  in  pieces  by 
the  wolves.    The  tattered  garments  were  scat- 
tered around  where  the  teeth  of  the  ferocious 
animals  had  left  them.     They  were  all  that 
was  left  of  the  noble  Petion  and  Buzot.     But 
how  did  they  die  ?     Worn  out  by  suffering  and 
abandoned  to  despair,  did  they  fall  by  their  own 
hands  ?    Did  they  perish  from  exposure  to  hun- 
ger and  exhaustion,  and  the  freezing  blasts  of 


1793.]    FATE  OF  THE  GIRONDISTS.        251 

Mystery  attending  the  death  of  Pfetion  and  Busot 

winter  ?  Or,  in  their  weakness,  were  they  at- 
tacked by  the  famished  wolves  of  the  mount- 
ains ?  The  dying  scene  of  Petion  and  Buzot  is 
involved  in  impenetrable  obscurity.  Its  tragio 
accompaniments  can  only  be  revaaled  when  all 
mysteries  shall  be  unfolded. 


252  MADAME  ROLAND.  [17<J3 

Ubentkm  of  Madame  Roland.  MM  U  r*-<UT<*tod 


CHAPTER  XL 
PRISON    It  i  P  K. 

JY/IADAME  ROLAND  remained  for  foni 
-'-'-•-  months  in  the  Abbay6  prison.  On  the 
24th  day  of  her  imprisonment,  to  her  inexpress- 
ible astonishment,  an  officer  entered  her  cell, 
and  informed  her  that  she  was  liberated,  as  no 
charge  could  be  found  against  her.  Hardly 
crediting  her  senses — fearing  that  she  should 
wake  up  and  find  her  freedom  but  the  blissful 
ielirium  of  a  dream — she  took  a  coach  and 
hastened  to  her  own  door.  Her  eyes  were  full 
of  tears  of  joy,  and  her  heart  almost  bursting 
with  the  throbbings  of  delight,  in  the  anticipa- 
tion of  again  pressing  her  idolized  child  to  hef 
bosom.  Her  hand  was  upon  the  door  latch — 
she  had  not  yet  passed  the  threshold — when  two 
men,  who  had  watched  at  the  door  of  her  dwell- 
ing, again  seized  her  in  the  name  of  the  law. 
In  spite  of  her  tears  and  supplications,  they 
conveyed  her  to  the  prison  of  St.  P61agi6.  This 
loathsome  receptacle  of  crime  was  filled  with 
the  abandoned  females  who  had  been  swept,  in 


1793.]  PRISON  LIFE.  5>53 

Infamous  cruelty  of  the  Jacobin*.  Anguish  of  Madura  Roland 

impurity  and  degradation,  from  the  streets  of 
Paris.  It  was,  apparently,  a  studied  humilia- 
tion, to  compel  their  victim  to  associate  with 
beings  from  whom  her  soul  shrunk  with  loath- 
ing. She  had  resigned  herself  to  die,  but  not 
to  the  society  of  infamy  and  pollution. 

The  Jacobins,  conscious  of  the  illegality  oi 
her  first  arrest,  and  dreading  her  power,  were 
anxious  to  secure  her  upon  a  more  legal  foot- 
ing. They  adopted,  therefore,  this  measure  of 
liberating  her  and  arresting  her  a  second  time. 
Even  her  firm  and  resigned  spirit  was  for  a 
moment  vanquished  by  this  cruel  blow.  Her 
olissful  dream  of  happiness  was  so  instantane- 
ously converted  into  the  blackness  of  despair, 
that  she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and,  in 
the  anguish  of  a  bruised  and  broken  heart,  wept 
aloud.  The  struggle,  though  short,  was  very 
violent  ere  she  regained  her  wonted  composure. 
She  soon,  however,  won  the  compassionate  sym- 
pathy of  her  jailers,  and  was  removed  from 
^ihis  degrading  companionship  to  a  narrow  cell, 
where  she  could  enjoy  the  luxury  of  being  alone. 
AJI  humble  bed  was  spread  for  her  in  one  cor 
ner,  and  a  small  table  was  placed  near  the  few 
raya  of  light  which  stole  feebly  in  through  tha 
iron  grating  of  the  inaccessible  Window.  Sum- 


254  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1793 

Madame  Roland  recoTen  her  composure.  Intellectual  enjoynifint* 

rnoning  all  her  fortitude  to  her  aid,  she  again 
resumed  her  usual  occupations,  allotting  to  each 
hour  of  the  day  its  regular  employment.  She 
angaged  vigorously  in  the  study  of  the  English 
language,  and  passed  some  hours  every  day  in 
drawing,  of  which  accomplishment  she  was  very 
fond.  She  had  no  patterns  to  copy ;  but  her 
imagination  wandered  through  the  green  fields 
and  by  the  murmuring  brooks  of  her  rural  home. 
Now  she  roved  with  free  footsteps  through  the 
vineyards  which  sprang  up  beneath  her  creative 
pencil.  Now  she  floated  upon  the  placid  lake, 
reclining  upon  the  bosom  of  her  husband  and 
caressing  her  child,  beneath  the  tranquil-  sub- 
limity of  the  evening  sky.  Again  she  sat  down 
at  the  humble  fireside  of  the  peasant,  minister- 
ing to  the  wants  of  the  needy,  and  receiving 
the  recompense  of  grateful  hearts.  Thus,  on 
the  free  wing  of  imagination,  she  penetrated  all 
scenes  of  beauty,  and  spread  them  out  in  vivid 
reality  before  her  eye.  At  times  she  almost 
forgot  that  she  was  a  captive.  Well  might  she 
have  exclaimed,  in  the  language  of  M  ma  An- 
toinette, *'  What  a  resource,  amid  tue  calami- 
ties of  life,  is  a  highly-cultivated  mind  !" 

A  few  devoted  friends  periled  their  own  livet 
by  gaining  occasional  access  to  her.     On  i  ing 


1793.]  PRISON  LIFE.  255 

If  ore  comfortable  apartment!.  Kindness  if  the  Jailer's  wife. 

the  dark  hours  of  that  reign  of  terror  and  of 
blood,  no  crime  was  more  unpardonable  than 
the  manifestation  of  sympathy  for  the  accused. 
These  friends,  calling  as  often  as  prudence 
would  allow,  brought  to  her  presents  of  fruit 
and  of  flowers.  At  last  the  jailer's  wife,  una- 
ble to  resist  the  pleadings  of  her  own  heart  for 
one  whom  she  could  not  but  love  and  admire, 
ventured  to  remove  her  to  a  more  comfortable 
apartment,  where  the  daylight  shone  brightly 
in  through  the  iron  bars  of  the  window.  Here 
she  could  see  the  clouds  and  the  birds  soaring 
in  the  free  air.  She  was  even  allowed,  through 
her  friends,  to  procure  a  piano-forte,  which  af- 
forded her  many  hours  of  recreation.  Music, 
drawing,  and  flowers  were  the  embellishments 
of  her  life.  Madame  Bouchaud,  the  wife  of 
the  jailer,  conceived  for  her  prisoner  the  kind- 
est affection,  and  daily  visited  her,  doing  ev- 
ery thing  in  her  power  to  alleviate  the  bitter- 
ness of  her  imprisonment.  At  last  her  sym- 
pathies were  so  aroused,  that,  regardless  of  all 
prudential  considerations,  she  offered  to  aid  her 
in  making  her  escape.  Madame  Roland  was 
deeply  moved  by  this  proof  of  devotion,  and, 
though  she  was  fully  aware  that  she  must  soon 
plac*<  her  head  upon  the  scaffold,  she  firmly  re- 


256  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1793 

Madamti  Roland  entreated  to  escape.  Rlgorou*  treatinent 

fused  all  entreaties  to  escape  in  any  way  *t  ich 
might  endanger  her  friend.  Others  united  with 
Madame  Bouohaud  in  entreating  her  to  accept 
of  her  generous  offer.  Their  effort*,  were  en- 
tirely unavailing.  She  preferred  to  die  hersell 
rather  than  to  incur  the  possibility  of  exposing 
those  who  loved  her  to  the  guillotine.  The  kind- 
ness with  which  Madame  Roland  was  treated 
was  soon  spied  out  by  those  in  power.  The 
jailer  was  severely  reprimanded,  and  ordered 
immediately  to  remove  the  piano- forte  from  the 
room,  and  to  confine  Madame  Roland  rigorous- 
ly in  her  cell.  This  change  did  not  disturb  the 
equanimity  of  her  spirit.  She  had  studied  so 
deeply  and  admired  so  profoundly  all  that  was 
noble  in  the  most  illustrious  characters  of  an- 
tiquity, that  her  mind  instinctively  assumed 
the  same  model.  She  found  elevated  enjoy- 
ment in  triumphing  over  every  earthly  ill. 

An  English  lady,  then  residing  in  France, 
who  had  often  visited  her  in  the  days  of  her 
power,  when  her  home  presented  all  that  earth 
could  give  of,  splendor,  and  when  wealth  and 
rank  were  bowing  obsequiously  around  her, 
thus  describes  a  visit  which  she  paid  to  her  cell 
in  these  dark  day&  of  adversity. 

"  T  visited  her  in  the  prison  of  Sainte  Pela 


I79J.J  PRISON  Lir*.  357 

rutt  of  an  EngUih  lady.  Klndoau  of  the  Jailer* 

gie,  where  her  soul,  superior  to  circumstances, 
retained  its  accustomed  serenity,  and  she  con- 
versed with  the  same  animated  cheerfulness  in 
her  cheerless  dudgeon  as  she  used  to  do  in  the 
hotel  of  the  minister.  She  had  provided  her- 
self with  a  few  books,  and  I  found  her  reading 
Plutarch.  She  told  me  that  she  expected  to  die, 
and  the  look  of  placid  resignation  with  which 
she  said  it  convinced  me  that  she  was  prepared 
to  meet  death  with  a  firmness  worthy  of  her  ex- 
alted character.  When  I  inquired  after  her 
daughter,  an  only  child  of  thirteen  years  of  age, 
she  burst  into  tears  ;  and,  at  the  overwhelming 
recollection  of  her  husband  and  child,  the  courr 
age  of  the  victim  of  liberty  was  lost  in  the  feel- 
ings of  the  wife  and  the  mother." 

The  rr  erciless  commissioners  had  ordered  her 
to  be  incarcerated  in  a  cell  which  no  beam  of 
light  could  penetrate.  But  her  compassionate 
keepers  ventured  to  misunderstand  the  orders, 
and  to  place  her  in  a  room  where  a  few  rays  of 
the  morning  sun  could  struggle  through  the 
grated  windows,  and  where  the  light  of  day, 
though  seen  but  dimly,  might  still,  in  some  de- 
gree, cheef  those  eyes  so  soon  to  be  closed  for 
ever.  The  soul,  instinctively  appreciative  of 
beauty,  will  under  the  most  adverse  circum 

18—17 


258  MADAME   ROLAND.  [179& 

Cheerful  Mp«ct  of  lUdam*  Roland'*  ce.T  H«nr1«tto  CutMl 

stances,  evoke  congenial  visions.  Her  friends 
brought  her  flowers,  of  which  from  childhood 
she  had  been  most  passionately  fond.  These 
cherished  plants  seemed  to  comprehend  and  re- 
quite  unaffected  love.  At  the  iron  window  of 
her  prison  they  appeared  to  grow  with  the  joy 
and  luxuriance  of  gratitude.  With  intertwin- 
ing leaf  and  blossom,  they  concealed  the  rusty 
bars,  till  they  changed  the  aspect  of  the  grated 
cell  into  a  garden  bower,  where  birds  might 
nestle  and  sing,  and  poets  might  love  to  linger. 
When  in  the  convent,  she  had  formed  a  strong 
attachment  for  one  of  her  companions,  which 
the  lapse  of  time  had  not  diminished.  Through 
all  the  vicissitudes  of  their  lives  they  had  kept 
up  a  constant  correspondence.  This  friend, 
Henriette  Cannet,  one  day  obtained  access  to 
her  prison,  and,  in  the  exercise  of  that  roman- 
tic friendship  of  which  this  world  can  present 
but  few  parallels,  urged  Madame  Roland  to  ex- 
change garments  with  her,  and  thus  escape  from 
prison  and  the  scaffold.  "  If  you  remain,"  said 
Henriette,  "  ^our  death  is  inevitable  If  I  re- 
main in  your  place,  they  will  not  take  my  life, 
out,  after  a  short  imprisonment,  I  shall  be  lib- 
erated. None  fear  me,  and  I  am  too  obscure  to 
attract  attention  in  these  troubled  times.  I.'' 


1793.]  PRISON  LIFE. 

Vain  eBtrMttM.  Rotoptam  to  the  iiatik  of  Mb  pown 

she  oontinned,  "am  a  widow,  r*nd  childless 
There  are  no  responsibilities  which  claim  my 
wime.  You  have  a  husband,  advanced  in  years, 
and  a  lovely  little  child,  both  needing  your  ut- 
most care."  Thus  she  pleaded  with  her  to  ex- 
change  attire,  and  endeavor  to  escape.  But 
neither  prayers  nor  tears  availed.  "  They  would 
kill  thee,  my  good  Henriette !"  exclaimed  Ma- 
dame Roland,  embracing  her  friend  with  tears 
of  emotion.  "  Thy  blood  would  ever  rest  on 
me.  Sooner  would  I  suffer  a  thousand  deaths 
than  reproach  myself  with  thine."  Henriette, 
finding  all  her  entreaties  in  vain,  sadly  bade  her 
adieu,  and  was  never  permitted  to  see  her  more. 
Robespierre  was  now  in  the  zenith  of  his  pow- 
er. He  was  the  arbiter  of  life  and  death.  One 
word  from  him  would  restore  Madame  Roland 
to  liberty.  But  he  had  steeled  his  heart  against 
every  sentiment  of  humanity,  and  was  not  will 
ing  to  deprive  the  guillotine  of  a  single  victim 
One  day  Madame  Roland  was  lying  sick  in  the 
Infirmary  of  the  prison.  A  physician  attended 
her,  who  styled  himself  the  friend  of  Robes- 
pierre The  mention  of  his  name  recalled  to 
her  remembrance  their  early  friendship,  and  her 
own  exertions  to  save  his  life  when  it  was  ix 
imminent  peril.  This  suggested  to  aer  tne  laea 


JJC2  MADAMB  ROLAND.  [17UIJ 

MaduM  RoUnd'f  letter  to  Robespierre. 

of  writing  to  him.     She  obeyed  the  impulse, 
and  wrote  as  follows : 

"  Robespierre  !  I  am  about  to  put  you  to  tha 
proof,  and  to  repeat  to  you  what  I  said  respect- 
ing your  character  to  the  friend  who  has  under- 
taken to  deliver  this  letter.  You  may  be  very 
sure  that  it  is  no  suppliant  who  addresses  you. 
I  never  asked  a  favor  yet  of  any  human  being, 
and  it  is  not  from  the  depths  of  a  prison  I  would 
supplicate  him  who  could,  if  he  pleased,  restore 
me  to  liberty.  No  !  prayers  and  entreaties  be- 
long to  the  guilty  or  to  slaves.  Neither  would 
murmurs  or  complaints  accord  with  my  nature. 
I  know  how  to  bear  all.  I  also  well  know  that 
at  the  beginning  of  every  republic  the  revolu- 
tions which  effected  them  have  invariably  se- 
lected the  principal  actors  in  the  change  as  their 
victims.  It  is  their  fate  to  experience  this,  as 
it  becomes  the  task  of  the  historian  to  avenge 
their  memories.  Still  I  am  at  a  ioss  to  imagine 
how  I,  a  mere  woman,  should  oe  exposed  to  the 
*ury  of  a  storm,  ordinarily  suffered  to  expend 
tseli  upon  the  great  leaders  of  a  revolution 
You,  Robespierre,  were  well  acquainted  with 
my  husband,  and  I  defy  you  to  say  that  yon 
ever  thought  him  other  than  an  honorable  man 
He  had  all  tha  roughness  of  virtue,  even  as  CaU 


1793.]  PRISON  LIFE.  263 

Miidajiie  Roland'*  letter  to  Robeipierr*. 

possessed  its  asperity.  Disgusted  with  busi- 
ness, irritated  by  persecution,  weary  of  the 
world,  and  worn  out  with  years  and  exertions, 
he  desired  only  to  bury  himself  and  his  troubles 
hi  some  unknown  spot,  and  to  conceal  himself 
there  to  save  the  age  he  lived  in  from  the  com- 
mission of  a  crime. 

"  My  pretended  confederacy  would  be  amus- 
ing, were  it  not  too  serious  a  matter  for  a  jest. 
Whence,  then,  arises  that  degree  of  animosity 
manifested  toward  me  ?  I  never  injured  a  creat- 
ure in  my  life,  and  can  not  find  it  in  my  heart 
to  wish  evil  even  to  those  who  injure  and  op- 
press me.  Brought  up  in  solitude,  my  mind 
directed  to  serious  studies,  of  simple  tastes,  an 
enthusiastic  admirer  of  the  Revolution^-exclud- 
ed,  by  my  sex,  from  participating  in  public  af- 
fairs, yet  taking  delight  in  conversing  of  them 
—I  despised  the  first  calumnies  circulated  re- 
specting me,  attributing  them  to  the  envy  felt 
by  the  ignorant  and  low-minded  at  what  they 
were  pleased  to  style  my  elevated  position,  but 
to  which  I  infinitely  preferred  the  peaceful  ob- 
sonrity  in  which  I  had  passed  so  many  happy 
days. 

"Yet  I  have  now  been  for  five  months  the 
inhabitant  of  a  orison,  torn  from  my  beloved 


264  MADAMK  ROLAND. 


Roland'*  letter  to  Robespierre. 


child,  whose  innocent  head  may  never  more  be 
pillowed  upon  a  mother's  breast ;  far  from  all  I 
hold  dear ;  the  mark  for  the  invectives  of  a  mis- 
taken people ;  constrained  to  hear  the  very  sen- 
tinels,  as  they  keep  watch  beneath  my  win- 
dows,  discussing  the  subject  of  my  approaching 
execution,  and  outraged  by  reading  the  violent 
and  disgusting  diatribes  poured  forth  against 
me  by  hirelings  of  the  press,  who  have  never 
once  beheld  me.  I  have  wearied  no  one  with 
requests,  petitions,  or  demands.  On  the  con- 
trary, I  feel  proudly  equal  to  battle  with  my 
own  ill  fortune,  and  it  may  be  to  trample  it  un- 
der my  feet. 

"  Robespierre !  I  send  not  this  softened  pic- 
ture of  nry  condition  to  excite  your  pity.  No ! 
«noh  a  sentiment,  expressed  by  you,  would  not 
only  offend  me,  but  be  rejected  as  it  deserves. 
I  write  for  your  edification.  Fortune  is  fickle 
— popular  favor  equally  so.  Look  at  the  fate 
of  those  who  led  on  the  revolutions  of  former 
ages — the  idols  of  the  people,  and  afterward  theii 
governors — fijom  Vitellius  to  Caesar,  or  from 
Hippo,  the  orator  of  Syracuse,  down  to  our  Pa- 
risian speakers.  Scylla  and  Marius  proscribed 
thousands  of  knights  and  senators,  besides  a  vast 
number  of  other  unfortunate  beings  ;  but 


1793.]  PRISON   LIFE.  366 

Madame  Roland  «  letter  to  Robecptarft. 

they  enabled  to  prevent  history  from  handing 
down  their  names  to  the  just  execration  of  pos- 
terity, and  did  they  themselves  enjoy  happi- 
aess  ?  Whatever  may  be  the  fate  awarded  to 
me,  1  shall  know  how  to  submit  to  it  in  a  man- 
ner worthy  of  myself,  or  to  anticipate  it  should 
I  deem  it  advisable.  After  receiving  the  hon- 
ors of  persecution,  am  I  to  expect  the  still  great- 
er one  of  martyrdom  ?  Speak  !  It  is  something 
to  know  your  fate,  and  a  spirit  such  as  mine 
can  boldly  face  it,  be  it  as  it  may.  Should  you 
bestow  upon  my  letter  a  fair  and  impartial  pe- 
rusal, it  will  neither  be  useless  to  you  nor  to 
my  country.  But,  under  any  circumstances, 
this  I  say,  Robespierre — and  you  can  not  deny 
the  truth  of  my  assertion — none  who  have  ever 
known  me  can  persecute  me  without  a  feeling 
of  remorse." 

Madame  Roland  preferred  to  die  rather  than 
to  owe  her  life  to  the  compassion  of  her  ene- 
mies Could  she  obtain  a  triumphant  acquit- 
tal, through  the  force  of  her  own  integrity,  she 
would  greatly  exult.  But  her  imperial  spirit 
would  not  stoop  to  the  acceptance  of  a  pardon 
from  those  who  deserved  the  execrations  of  man- 
kind; such  a  pardon  she  would  have  torn  in 


266  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1793, 

Bmpporti  of  philosophy.  Influence  of  the  BLomaa  Catholic  nlUiom 

fragments,  and  have  stepped  resolutely  upon  the 
scaffold. 

There  is  something  cold  and  chilling  in  the 
supports  which  pride  and  philosophy  alone  can 
afford  under  the  calamities  of  life.  Madame 
Roland  had  met  with  Christianity  only  as  it  ap- 
peared in  the  pomp  and  parade  of  the  Catholic 
Church,  and  in  the  openly-dissolute  lives  of  its 
ignorant  or  voluptuous  priesthood.  While  her 
poetic  temperament  was  moved  by  the  sublime 
conception  of  a  God  ruling  over  the  world  of 
matter  and  the  world  of  mind,  revealed  relig- 
ion, as  her  spirit  encountered  it,  consisted  only 
in  gorgeous  pageants,  and  ridiculous  dogmas, 
and  puerile  traditions.  The  spirit  of  piety  and 
pure  devotion  she  could  admire.  Her  natural 
temperament  was  serious,  reflective,  and  pray- 
erful. Her  mind,  so  far  as  religion  was  con- 
cerned, was  very  much  in  the  state  of  that  of 
any  intellectual,  high-minded,  uncorruptible  Ro- 
man, who  renounced,  without  opposing,  the  idol- 
atry of  the  benighted  multitude;  who  groped 
painfully  for  some  revelation  of  God  and  of 
truth ;  who  at  'times  believed  fully  in  a  superin- 
tending providence,  and  again  had  fears  wheth- 
er there  ware  any  God  or  any  immortality.  ID 
the  processions,  the  relics,  the  grotesque  garb. 


1793.J  PRISON    LIFB.  267 

Energy  of  if  (dime  Roland.  She  prepare*  for  rolnntary  death. 

and  the  spiritual  terrors  wielded  by  the  Roman 
Catholic  priesthood,  she  could  behold  but  bare- 
faced deception.  The  papal  system  appeared 
to  her  but  as  a  colossal  monster,  oppressing  the 
people  with  hideous  superstition,  and  sustain- 
ing, with  its  superhuman  energies,  the  corrup- 
tion of  the  nobles  and  of  the  throne.  In  reject- 
ing this  system,  she  had  no  friend  to  conduct  her 
to  the  warm,  sheltered,  and  congenial  retreats 
of  evangelical  piety.  She  was  led  almost  inev- 
itably, by  the  philosophy  of  the  times,  to  those 
chilling,  barren,  storm-swept  heights,  where  the 
soul  can  find  no  shelter  but  in  its  own  indom- 
itable energies  of  endurance.  These  energies 
Madame  Roland  displayed  in  such  a  degree  as 
to  give  her  a  name  among  the  very  first  of  those 
in  any  age  who  by  heroism  have  shed  luc  i 

human  nature. 

Under  the  influence  of  these  feelings,  she 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  would  be  mor» 
honorable  for  her  to  die  by  her  own  hand  than 
to  be  dragged  to  the  guillotine  by  her  foes.  She 
obtained  some  poison,  and  sat  down  calmly  to 
write  her  last  thoughts,  and  her  last  messages 
of  love,  before  she  should  plunge  into  the  deep 
mystery  of  the  unknown.  There  is  something 
exceedingly  affecting  in  the  vague  and  shadowy 


MADAME   ROLAND.  [1793 

Madame  Roland' t  prayer.  Mote*  to  hw  kubtMd  and  child 

p  ayer  which  she  offered  on  this  occasion.  It 
betrays  a  painful  uncertainty  whether  there 
were  any  superintending  Deity  to  hear  her  cry, 
and  yet  it  was  the  soul's  instinctive  breathings 
for  a  support  higher  and  holier  than  could  be 
found  within  itself. 

"  Divinity  !  Supreme  Being !  Spirit  of  the 
Universe  !  great  principle  of  all  that  1  feel  great, 
or  good,  or  immortal  within  myself — whose  ex- 
istence I  believe  in,  because  I  must  have  ema- 
nated from  something  superior  to  that  by  which 
I  am  surrounded — I  am  about  to  reunite  my- 
self to  "thy  essence."  In  her  farewell  note  to 
her  husband,  she  writes,  "  Forgive  me,  my  es- 
teemed and  justly-honored  husband,  for  taking 
upon  myself  to  dispose  of  a  life  I  had  consecrat- 
ed to  you.  Believe  me,  I  could  have  loved  life 
and  you  better  for  your  misfortunes,  had  I  been 
permitted  to  share  them  with  you.  At  pres- 
ent, by  my  death,  you  are  only  freed  from  a 
useless  object  of  unavailing  anguish." 

All  the  fountains  of  a  mother's  love  gush  forth 
is  she  writes  to  her  idolized  Eudora :  "  Pardon 
me,  my  beloved  child,  my  sweet  daughter,  whoso 
gentle  image  dwells  within  my  heart,  and  whose 
rery  remembrance  shake*  my  sternest  resolu- 
tion. Never  would  your  fond  mother  have  left 


1793.)  PRISON  LIFE.  269 

Apostrophe  to  friend*.  Farewell  to  Natur* 

you  helpless  in  the  world,  could  she  but  have 
remained  to  guide  and  guard  you." 

Then,  apostrophizing  her  friends,  she  ex- 
claims, "  And  you,  my  cherished  friends,  trans- 
fer to  my  motherless  child  the  affection  you 
have  ever  manifested  for  me.  Grieve  not  at  a 
resolution  which  ends  my  many  and  severe  tri- 
als. You  know  me  too  well  to  believe  that 
weakness  or  terror  have  instigated  the  step  I 
am  about  to  take." 

She  made  her  will,  bequeathing  such  trifling 
souvenirs  of  affection  as  still  remained  in  her 
possession  to  her  daughter,  her  friends,  and  her 
servants.  She  then  reverted  to  all  she  had  lov 
ed  and  admired  of  the  beauties  of  nature,  and 
which  she  was  now  to  leave  forever.  "  Fare- 
well !"  she  wrote,  "  farewell,  glorious  sun !  that 
never  failed  to  gild  my  windows  with  thy  gold- 
en rays,  ere  thou  hiddest  thy  brightness  in  the 
heavens.  Adieu,  ye  lonely  banks  of  the  Saone, 
whose  wild  beauty  a-uld  fill  my  heart  with  such 
deep  delight.  And  you  too,  poor  but  honest 
people  of  Thizy,  whose  labors  I  lightened,  whose 
distress  I  relieved,  and  whose  sick  beds  1  tend- 
ed— farewell !  Adieu,  oh  !  peaceful  chambers 
of  ray  childhood,  where  I  learned  to  love  virtue 
truth — where  my  imagination  found  in 


270  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1793 

Maternal  lore  trtompk*.  The  (truggl*  ended 

books  and  study  the  food  to  delight  it,  and 
where  I  learned  in  silence  to  command  my 
passions  and  to  despise  my  vanity.  Again 
farewell,  my  child !  Remember  your  mother 
Doubtless  your  fate  will  be  less  severe  than 
hers.  Adieu,  beloved  child  !  whom  I  nourished 
at  my  breast,  and  earnestly  desired  to  imbue 
with  every  feeling  and  opinion  I  myself  enter- 
tained." 

The  cup  of  poison  was  in  her  hand.  In  her 
heart  there  was  no  consciousness  that  she  should 
violate  the  command  of  any  higher  power  by 
drinking  it.  But  love  for  her  child  triumphed. 
The  smile  of  Eudora  rose  before  her,  and  for 
ner  sake  she  clung  to  life.  She  threw  away 
the  poison,  resolved  never  again  to  think  of  a 
voluntary  withdrawal  from  the  cares  and  sor- 
rows of  her  earthly  lot,  but  with  unwavering 
fortitude  to  surrender  herself  to  those  influences 
over  which  she  could  no  longer  exert  any  con- 
trol. This  brief  conflict  ended,  she  resumed 
her  wonted  composure  and  cheerfulness. 

Tacitus  was  now  her  favorite  author.  Honre 
and  days  she  passed  in  studying  his  glowing  de» 
•criptions  of  heroic  character  and  deeds.  He* 
roisin  became  her  religion;  magnanimity  and 
fortitude  the  idol*  of  her  sotd.  With  a  |  listen- 


17S/3.]  PRISON  LIFE.  271 

{toccrtpttuu  of  Tacltu*.  Madame  Roland  wrltM  her  memoir* 

ing  eye  and  a  bosom  throbbing  with  lofty  emo- 
tion, she  meditated  npon  his  graphic  paintings 
of  the  martyrdom  of  patriots  and  philosophers, 
where  the  soul,  by  its  inherent  energies,  tri- 
umphed over  obloquy,  and  pain,  and  death 
Anticipating  that  each  day  might  conduct  her 
to  the  scaffold,  she  led  her  spirit  through  all  the 
possible  particulars  of  the  tragic  drama,  that 
she  might  become  familiar  with  terror,  and  look 
upon  the  block  and  the  ax  with  an  undaunted 
eye. 

Many  hours  of  every  day  she  beguiled  in 
writing  the  memoirs  of  her  own  life.  It  was 
an  eloquent  and  a  touching  narrative,  written 
with  the  expectation  that  each  sentence  might 
be  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  the  execu- 
tioners to  conduct  her  to  trial  and  to  the  guil- 
lotine. In  this  unveiling  of  the  heart  to  the 
world,  one  sees  a  noble  nature,  generous  and 
strong,  animated  to  benevolence  by  native  gen- 
erosity, and  nerved  to  resignation  by  fatalism. 
The  consciousness  of  spiritual  elevation  consti- 
tuted her  only  religion  and  her  only  solace.  The 
anticipation  of  a  lofty  reputation  after  death 
was  her  only  heaven.  The  Christian  must  pity 
while  ho  must  admire.  No  one  can  read  the 
thoughts  »he  penned  bat  with  the  deepest  emo- 
tion. 


272  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1793 

The  i plrlt  wtnden  among  happier  *cene*. 


Now  her  mind  wanders  to  the  hours  of  hei 
precocious  and  dreamy  childhood,  and  lingers 
in  her  little  chamber,  gazing  upon  the  golden 
sunset,  and  her  eye  is  bathed  in  tears  as  she  re 
fleets  upon  her  early  home,  desolated  by  death, 
and  still  inure  desolated  by  that  unhonored  union 
which  the  infidelity  of  the  times  tolerated,  when 
one  took  the  position  oe  the  wife  unblessed  by  the 
sanction  of  Heaven.  Again  her  spirit  wings  its 
flight  through  the  gloomy  bars  of  the  prison  to 
the  beautiful  rural  home  to  which  her  bridal 
introduced  her,  where  she  spent  her  happiest 
years,  and  she  forgets  the  iron,  and  the  stone, 
and  the  dungeon-glooms  which  surround  her, 
as  in  imagination  she  walks  again  among  her 
flowers  and  through  the  green  fields,  and,  at  the 
vintage,  eats  the  rich,  ripe  clusters  of  the  grape 
Her  pleasant  household  cares,  her  dairy,  the  do- 
mestic fowls  recognizing  her  voice,  and  fed  from 
her  own  hand ;  her  library  and  her  congenia 
intellectual  pursuits  rise  bef(  re  her,  an  entranc- 
ing vision,  and  she  mourns,  like  Eve,  the  los? 
«>f  Eden.  The  days  of  celebrity  and  of  powei 
engross  her  thoughts.  Her  husband  is  again 
minister  of  the  king.  The  most  influential 
rtatesmen  and  brilliant  orators  are  gathered 
around  her  chair.  Her  mind  is  guiding  th« 


1793.]  PRISON    LIFE.  278 

Striking  contrasts.  Madame  Roland  conveyed  to  the  Conciergerie 

surging  billows  of  the  Revolution,  and  iuflueno- 
ing  the  decisions  of  the  proudest  thrones  of 
Europe. 

The  slightest  movement  dispels  the  illusion. 
From  dreams  she  awakes  to  reality.  She  is  a 
prisoner  in  a  gloomy  cell  of  stone  and  iron,  from 
which  there  is  no  possible  extrication.  A  bloody 
death  awaits  her.  Her  husband  is  a  fugitive, 
pursued  by  human  blood-hounds  more  merci- 
less than  the  brute.  Her  daughter,  the  object 
of  her  most  idolatrous  love,  is  left  fatherless  and 
motherless  in  this  cold  world.  The  guillotine 
has  already  consigned  many  of  those  whom  she 
loved  best  to  the  grave.  But  a  few  more  days 
of  sorrow  can  dimly  struggle  through  her  pris- 
on windows  ere  she  must  be  conducted  to  the 
scaffold.  Woman's  nature  triumphs  over  phil- 
osophic fortitude,  and  she  finds  momentary  re- 
lief in  a  flood  of  tears. 

The  Girondists  were  led  from  their  dungeons 
in  the  Conciergerie  to  their  execution  on  th« 
31st  of  October,  1793.  Upon  that  very  day 
Madame  Roland  was  conveyed  from  the  prison 
of  St.  Pelagie  to  the  same  gloomy  cells  vacated 
by  the  death  of  her  friends.  She  was  cast  into 
a  bare  and  miserable  dungeon,  in  that  subter- 
ranean receptacle  of  woe,  where  there  was  not 
18—18 


274  MADAME   ROLANB.  [1793 

Dlraal  eelL  IVsseription  of  the  Condra-gerU 

even  a  bed.  Another  prisoner,  moved  with  com- 
passion, drew  his  own  pallet  into  her  cell,  that 
she  might  not  be  compelled  to  throw  herself  for 
repose  upon  the  cold,  wet  stones.  The  chill  air 
of  winter  had  now  come,  and  yet  no  covering 
was  allowed  her.  Through  the  long  night  she 
shivered  with  the  cold. 

The  prison  of  the  Conciergerie  consists  of  a 
series  of  dark  and  damp  subterranean  vaults  sit- 
uated beneath  the  floor  of  the  Palace  of  Justice. 
Imagination  can  conceive  of  nothing  more  disma* 
than  these  somber  caverns,  with  long  and  wind- 
ing  galleries  opening  into  cells  as  dark  as  the 
tomb.  You  descend  by  a  flight  of  massive  stone 
steps  into  this  sepulchral  abode,  and,  passing 
through  double  doors,  whose  iron  strength  time 
has  deformed  but  not  weakened,  you  enter  upon 
the  vast  labyrinthine  prison,  where  the  imag- 
ination wanders  affrighted  through  intricate 
mazes  of  halls,  and  arches,  and  vaults,  and  dun 
geons,  rendered  only  more  appalling  by  the  dim 
light  which  struggles  through  those  grated  ori- 
fices which  pierced  the  massive  walls.''  The 
Seine  flows  by  upon  one  side,  separated  only  by 
the  high  way  of  the  quays.  The  bed  of  the 
Seme  is  above  the  floor  of  the  prison.  The  sur- 
rounding earth  was  consequently  saturated  with 


1793.]  Pa i sow    Lirfc. 

Marrow  conrtt.  Quadrangular  toww 

water,  and  the  oozing  moisture  diffused  over  the 
walls  and  the  floors  the  humidity  of  the  sepul- 
oher.  The  plash  of  the  river  ;  the  rumbling  of 
carts  upon  the  pavements  overhead;  the  heavy 
tramp  of  countless  footfalls,  as  the  multitude 
poured  into  and  out  of  the  halls  of  justice,  min- 
gled with  the  moaning  of  the  prisoners  in  those 
solitary  cells.  There  were  one  or  two  narrow 
courts  scattered  in  this  vast  structure,  where 
the  prisoners  could  look  up  the  precipitous 
walls,  as  of  a  well,  towering  high  above  them, 
and  see  a  few  square  yards  of  sky.  The  gi- 
gantic quadrangular  tower,  reared  above  these 
firm  foundations,  was  formerly  the  imperial  pal- 
ace from  which  issued  all  power  and  law.  Here 
the  French  kings  reveled  in  voluptuousness, 
with  their  prisoners  groaning  beneath  their  feet 
This  strong-hold  of  feudalism  had  now  become 
the  tomb  of  the  monarchy.  In  one  of  the  most 
loathsome  of  these  cells,  Maria  Antoinette,  the 
daughter  of  the  Ceesars,  had  languished  in  mis- 
ery as  profound  as  mortals  can  suffer,  till,  in  the 
endurance  of  every  conceivable  insult,  she  was 
dragged  to  the  guillotine. 

It  was  into  a  cell  adjoining  that  which  the 
hapless  queen  had  occupied  that  Madame  Ro- 
land wa«  oast.  Here  the  proud  daughter  of  the 


276  MADAME    ROLAND.  (1793 

Fhe  daughter  of  the  Cecan.  The  daughter  of  the 


emperors  of  Austria  and  the  humble  child  of 
the  artisan,  each,  after  a  career  of  unexampled 
vicissitudes,  found  their  paths  to  meet  but  a 
few  steps  from  the  scaffold.  The  victim  of  the 
monarchy  and  the  victim  of  the  Revolution 
were  conducted  to  the  same  dungeons  and  per- 
ished on  the  same  block.  They  met  as  an- 
tagonists in  the  stormy  arena  of  the  French 
Revolution.  They  were  nearly  of  equal  age. 
The  one  possessed  the  prestige  of  wealth,  and 
rank,  and  ancestral  power ;  the  other,  the  en- 
ergy of  vigorous  and  cultivated  mind.  Both 
were  endowed  with  unusual  attractions  of  per- 
son, spirits  invigorated  by  enthusiasm,  and  the 
loftiest  heroism.  From  the  antagonism  of  life 
they  met  in  death. 


I793.J      TRIAL  AND  EXECUTION.          277 

f  cjuxiination  of  Madame  Roland.  Her  eitrxroi  for  the  Glrondlita 


CHAPTER  XII 

TKIAL  AND  EXECUTION  OF  MADAME  RO- 
LAND. 

HE  day  after  Madame  Roland  was  placed 
in  the  Conoiergerie,  she  was  visited  by  one 
of  the  notorious  officers  of  the  revolutionary 
party,  and  very  closely  questioned  concerning 
the  friendship  she  had  entertained  for  the  Gi- 
rondists. She  frankly  avowed  the  elevated  af- 
fection and  esteem  with  which  she  cherished 
their  memory,  but  she  declared  that  she  and 
they  were  the  cordial  friends  of  republican  lib- 
erty ;  that  they  wished  to  preserve,  not  to  de- 
stroy, the  Constitution.  The  examination  was 
vexatious  and  intolerant  in  the  extreme.  It 
lasted  for  three  hours,  and  consisted  in  an  in- 
cessant torrent  of  criminations,  to  which  she 
was  hardly  permitted  to  offer  one  word  in  re- 
aly.  This  examination  taught  her  the  nature 
of  the  accusations  which  would  be  brought 
against  her.  She  sat  down  in  her  cell  that 
very  night,  and,  with  a  rapid  pen,  sketched  that 
defense  which  has  been  pronounced  one  of  the 


MADAME  ROLANI*  [1793 


Eloquent  defense  of  Madame  Roland. 


most  eloquent  and  touching  monuments  of  the 
Revolution.  It  so  beautifully  illustrates  the 
heroism  of  her  character,  the  serenity  of  her 
spirit,  and  the  beauty  and  energy  of  her  men- 
tal operations,  that  it  will  ever  be  read  with  the 
liveliest  interest. 

"  I  am  accused,"  she  writes,  "  of  being  the 
accomplice  of  men  called  conspirators.  My  in- 
timacy with  a  few  of  these  gentlemen  is  of  much 
older  date  than  the  occurrences  in  consequence 
of  which  they  are  now  deemed  rebels.  Our 
correspondence,  since  they  left  Paris,  has  been 
entirely  foreign  to  public  affairs.  Properly 
speaking,  I  have  been  engaged  in  no  political 
correspondence  whatever,  and  in  that  respect  I 
might  confine  myself  to  a  simple  denial.  I  cer- 
tainly can  not  be  called  upon  to  give  an  account 
of  my  particular  affections.  I  have,  however, 
the  right  to  be  proud  of  these  friendships.  I 
glory  in  them.  I  wish  to  conceal  nothing.  I 
acknowledge  that,  with  expressions  of  regret  at 
my  confinement,  I  received  an  intimation  that 
Duperiet  had  two  letters  for  me,  whether  writ- 
ten by  one  or  by  two  of  my  friends,  before  or 
after  their  leaving  Paris,  I  can  not  say.  Du- 
perret  had  delivered  them  into  other  hands,  and 
they  never  came  to  mine.  Another  time  I  re- 


1793.]      TRIAL  IND  EZKCUTIOM.          279 

Madame  Roland's  reasons  for  not  escaping. 

oeived  a  pressing  invitation  to  break  my  chains, 
and  an  offer  of  services,  to  assist  me  in  effect- 
ing my  escape  in  any  way  I  might  think  prop- 
er, and  to  convey  me  whithersoever  I  might 
afterward  wish  to  go.  I  was  dissuaded  from 
listening  to  such  proposals  by  duty  and  by  hon- 
or :  by  duty,  that  I  might  not  endanger  the 
safety  of  those  to  whose  care  I  was  confided ; 
and  by  honor,  because  I  preferred  the  risk  of  an 
unjust  trial  to  exposing  myself  to  the  suspicion 
of  guilt  by  a  flight  unworthy  of  me.  When  I 
consented  to  my  arrest,  it  was  not  with  the  in- 
tention of  afterward  making  my  escape.  With- 
out doubt,  if  all  means  of  communication  had 
not  been  cut  off,  or  if  I  had  not  been  prevented 
oy  confinement,  I  should  have  endeavored  to 
earn  what  had  become  of  my  friends.  I  know 
of  no  law  by  which  my  doing  so  is  forbidden 
In  what  age  or  in  what  nation  was  it  ever  con- 
sidered a  crime  to  be  faithful  to  those  senti- 
ments of  esteem  and  brotherly  affection  which 
bind  man  to  man  ? 

"  I  do  not  pretend  to  judge  of  the  measure* 
of  those  who  have  been  proscribed,  but  I  will 
never  believe  hi  the  evil  intentions  of  rnen  of 
whose  probity  and  patriotism  I  am  thoroughly 
convinced.  If  they  erred,  it  was  unintention- 


280  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1793 

Madame  Roland's  opinion  of  the  Girondists. 

ally.  They  fall  without  being  abased,  and  I 
regard  them  as  being  unfortunate  without  be- 
ing liable  to  blame.  I  am  perfectly  easy  as  to 
their  glory,  and  willingly  consent  to  participate 
in  the  honor  of  being  oppressed  by  their  ene- 
mies. They  are  accused  of  having  conspired 
against  their  country,  but  I  know  that  they 
were  firm  friends  of  the  Republic.  They  were, 
however,  humane  men,  and  were  persuaded  that 
good  laws  were  necessary  to  procure  the  Repub 
lie  the  good  will  of  persons  who  doubted  wheth- 
er the  Republic  could  be  maintained.  It  is 
more  difficult  to  conciliate  than  to  kill.  The 
history  of  every  age  proves  that  it  requires  great 
talents  to  lead  men  to  virtue  by  wise  institu- 
tions, while  force  suffices  to  oppress  them  by 
terror,  or  to  annihilate  them  by  death.  I  have 
often  heard  them  assert  that  abundance,  as  well 
as  happiness,  can  only  proceed  from  an  equi- 
table, protecting,  and  beneficent  government 
The  omnipotence  of  the  bayonet  may  produce 
fear,  but  not  bread.  I  have  seen  them  anima 
ted  by  the  most  lively  enthusiasm  for  the  good 
of  the  people,  disdaining  to  flatter  them,  and 
resolved  rather  to  fall  victims  to  their  delusion 
than  to  be  the  means  of  keeping  it  up.  I  con- 
fess that  these  principles  and  this  conduct  ap. 


1793.]      TRIAL  AND  EXECUTION.          SJ81 

Madame  Roland's  opinion  of  the  Revolution. 

peared  to  me  totally  different  from  the  senti- 
ments and  proceedings  of  tyrants,  or  ambitions 
men,  who  seek  to  please  the  people  to  effect 
their  subjugation.  It  inspired  me  with  the 
highest  esteem  for  those  generous  men.  This 
arror,  if  an  error  it  be,  will  accompany  me  to 
the  grave,  whither  1  shall  be  proud  of  follow- 
ing those  whom  I  was  not  permitted  to  accom- 
oany. 

"  My  defense  is  more  important  for  those  who 
wish  for  the  truth  than  it  is  for  myself.  Calm 
and  contented  in  the  consciousness  of  having 
done  my  duty,  I  look  forward  to  futurity  with 
perfect  peace  of  mind.  My  serious  turn  and 
studious  habits  have  preserved  me  alike  from 
the  follies  of  dissipation  and  from  the  bustle  of 
intrigue.  A  friend  to  liberty,  on  which  reflec- 
tion had  taught  me  to  set  a  just  value,  I  beheld 
the  Revolution  with  delight,  persuaded  it  was 
destined  to  put  an  end  to  the  arbitrary  power  I 
detested,  and  to  the  abuses  I  had  so  often  la« 
mented,  when  reflecting  with  pity  upon  the  in- 
digent classes  of  society.  I  took  an  interest  in 
the  progress  of  the  Revolution,  and  spoke  with 
warmth  of  public  affairs,  but  I  did  not  pass  the 
oounds  prescribed  by  my  sex.  Some  small  tal- 
ents, a  considerable  share  of  philosophy,  a  de> 


282  MADAMS  ROLAND.  {1793 

Mmdune  Roland  •  estimate  of  her  husband. 


gree  of  courage  more  uncommon,  and  which 
did  not  permit  me  to  weaken  my  husband's  en- 
ergy  in  dangerous  times — such,  perhaps,  are  the 
qualities  which  those  who  know  me  may  have 
indiscreetly  extolled,  and  which  may  have  made 
me  enemies  among  those  to  whom  I  am  un- 
known. M.  Roland  sometimes  employed  me  aa 
a  secretary,  and  the  famous  letter  to  the  king, 
for  instance,  is  copied  entirely  in  my  hand- writ- 
ing. This  would  be  an  excellent  item  to  add  to 
my  indictment,  if  the  Austrians  were  trying  me, 
and  if  they  should  have  thought  fit  to  extend  a 
minister's  responsibility  to  his  wife.  But  M 
Roland  long  ago  manifested  his  knowledge  of, 
and  his  attachment  to,  the  great  principles  of 
political  economy.  The  proof  is  to  be  found  in 
his  numerous  works  published  during  the  last 
fifteen  years  His  learning  and  his  probity  are 
all  his  own.  He  stood  in  no  need  of  a  wife  to 
make  him  an  able  minister.  Never  were  se- 
cret councils  held  at  his  house.  His  colleagues 
and  a  few  friends  met  once  a  week  at  his  table, 
and  there  conversed,  in  a  public  manner,  on 
matters  in  which  every  body  was  concerned. 
His  writings,  which  breathe  throughout  a  love 
of  order  and  peace,  and  which  enforce  the  best 
principles  of  public  prosperity  and  morals,  will 


I793J      TRIAL  AND  EXECUTION.          2«3 

Madame  Roland's  correspondence  with  Duperret 


forever  attest  his  wisdom.     His  accounts  prove 
his  integrity. 

"  As  to  the  offense  imputed  to  me,  I  observe 
that  I  never  was  intimate  with  Duperret.  1 
saw  him  occasionally  at  the  time  of  M.  Roland's 
administration.  He  never  came  to  our  house 
during  the  six  months  that  my  husband  was  no 
longer  in  office.  The  same  remark  will  apply 
to  other  membe'rs,  our  friends,  which  surely 
does  not  accord  with  the  plots  and  conspiracies 
laid  to  our  charge.  It  is  evident,  by  my  first 
letter  to  Duperret,  I  only  wrote  to  him  because 
I  knew  not  to  whom  else  to  address  myself,  and 
because  I  imagined  he  would  readily  consent  to 
oblige  me.  My  correspondence  with  him  could 
not,  then,  be  concerted.  It  could  not  be  the  con- 
sequence of  any  previous  intimacy,  and  could 
have  only  one  object  hi  view.  It  gave  me  aft- 
erward an  opportunity  of  receiving  accounts 
from  those  who  had  just  absented  themselves, 
and  with  whom  I  was  connected  by  the  ties  of 
friendship,  independently  of  all  political  consid- 
erations. The  latter  were  totally  out  of  the 
question  in  the  kind  of  correspondence  I  kept 
up  with  them  during  the  early  part  of  their 
absence.  No  written  memorial  bears  witness 
against  me  in  that  respect.  Those  adduced 


884  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1793. 

Effects  of  prejudice!  and  violent  animosities. 

only  lead  to  the  belief  that  I  partook  of  the  opin- 
ions and  sentiments  of  the  persons  called  con- 
spirators. This  deduction  is  well  founded.  I 
confess  it  without  reserve.  I  am  proud  of  the 
conformity.  But  I  never  manifested  my  opin- 
ion in  a  way  which  can  be  construed  into  a  crime, 
or  which  tended  to  occasion  any  disturbance. 
Now,  to  become  an  accomplice  in  any  plan 
whatever,  it  is  necessary  to  give  advice,  or  to 
furnish  means  of  execution.  I  have  done  nei- 
ther. There  is  no  law  to  condemn  me. 

"  I  know  that,  in  revolutions,  law  as  well  as 
justice  is  often  forgotten,  and  the  proof  of  it  is 
that  I  am  here.  I  owe  my  trial  to  nothing  but 
the  prejudices  and  violent  animosities  which 
arise  in  times  of  great  agitation,  and  which  are 
generally  directed  against  those  who  have  been 
placed  in  conspicuous  situations,  or  are  known 
to  possess  any  energy  or  spirit.  It  would  have 
been  easy  for  my  courage  to  put  rne  out  of  the 
reach  of  the  sentence  which  I  foresaw  would 
be  pronounced  against  me.  But  I  thought  it 
rather,  became'  me  to  undergo  that  sentence.  I 
thought  that  I  owed  the  example  to  my  coun- 
try. I  thought  that  if  I  were  to  be  condemned, 
it  must  be  right  to  leave  to  tyranny  all  the  odi- 
um of  MLcrifioing  a  woman,  whose  crime  is  thai 


1793.J       TRIAL  AND  EXECUTION.  286 

Madam*  Roland  avows  her  opinion*. 

of  possessing  some  small  talent,  which  she  never 
misapplied,  a  zealous  desire  to  promote  the  wel- 
fare of  mankind,  and  courage  enough  to  ac- 
knowledge her  friends  when  in  misfortune,  and 
to  dc  homage  to  virtue  at  the  risk  of  life.  Minds 
which  have  any  claim  to  greatness  are  capable 
of  divesting  themselves  of  selfish  considerations. 
They  feel  that  they  belong  to  the  whole  human 
race.  Their  views  are  directed  to  posterity.  I 
am  the  wife  of  a  virtuous  man  exposed  to  per- 
secution. I  was  the  friend  of  men  who  have 
been  proscribed  and  immolated  by  delusion,  and 
the  hatred  of  jealous  mediocrity.  It  is  necessa- 
ry that  I  should  perish  in  my  turn,  because  it 
is  a  rule  with  tyranny  to  sacrifice  those  whom 
it  has  grievously  oppressed,  and  to  annihilate 
the  very  witnesses  of  its  misdeeds.  I  have  this 
double  claim  to  death  at  your  hands,  and  I  ex 
peot  it.  When  innocence  walks  to  the  scaffold 
*t  the  command  of  error  and  perversity,  every 
step  she  takes  is  an  advance  toward  glory.  May 
\  be  the  last  victim  sacrificed  to  the  furious  spirit 
of  party.  I  shall  leave  with  joy  this  unfortu- 
nate  earth,  which  swallows  up  the  friends  of 
virtue  and  drinks  the  blood  of  the  just. 

"  Truth  !    friendship  !   my  country !   sacred 
objects,  sentiments  dear  to  my  heart,  accept  mv 


286  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1793. 

Madame  Roland's  apostrophe  to  Liberty. 


last  sacrifice.  My  life  was  devoted  to  you,  and 
you  will  render  my  death  easy  and  glorious. 

"  Just  Heaven  !  enlighten  this  unfortunate 
people  for  whom  I  desired  liberty.  Liberty !  it 
is  for  noble  minds,  who  despise  death,  and  who 
know  how,  upon  occasion,  to  give  it  to  them- 
selves.  It  is  not  for  weak  beings,  who  enter 
into  a  composition  with  guilt,  and  cover  selfish- 
ness and  cowardice  with  the  name  of  prudence. 
It  is  not  for  corrupt  wretches,  who  rise  from  the 
bed  of  debauchery,  or  from  the  mire  of  indi- 
gence, to  feast  their  eyes  upon  the  blood  that 
streams  from  the  scaffold.  It  is  the  portion  of 
a  people  who  delight  in  humanity,  practice  just- 
ice, despise  their  flatterers,  and  respect  the  truth. 
While  you  are  not  such  a  people,  O  my  fellow- 
citizens  !  you  will  talk  in  vain  of  liberty.  In- 
stead of  liberty  you  will  have  licentiousness,  to 
which  you  will  all  fall  victims  in  your  turn. 
You  will  ask  for  bread ;  dead  bodies  will  be 
given  you,  and  you  at  last  will  bow  down  your 
own  necks  to  the  yoke. 

"  I  have  neither  concealed  my  sentiments  noi 
my  opinions.  I  know  that  a  Roman  lady  waa 
sent  to  the  scaffold  for  lamenting  the  death  of 
her  son.  I  know  that,  in  times  of  delusion  and 
party  rage,  he  who  dares  avow  himself  the  friend 


1793.]      TRIAL   AND    EXECUTION.          28? 

Repeated  exainkifitiona.  Madame  Roland's  •elf-po«««Mion. 

of  the  condemned  or  of  the  proscribed  exposes 
himself  to  their  fate.  But  I  have  no  fear  of 
death.  I  never  feared  any  thing  but  guilt,  and 
I  will  not  purchase  life  at  the  expense  of  a  base 
subterfuge.  Woe  to  the  times !  woe  to  the  peo- 
ple among  whom  doing  homage  to  disregarded 
truth  can  be  attended  with  danger;  and  hap- 
py is  he  who,  in  such  circumstances,  is  bold 
enough  to  brave  it. 

"  It  is  now  your  part  to  see  whether  it  an- 
swer your  purpose  to  condemn  me  without  proof 
upon  mere  matter  of  opinion,  and  without  the 
support  or  justification  of  any  law." 

Having  concluded  this  magnanimous  defense, 
which  she  wrote  in  one  evening  with  the  rapid- 
ity which  characterized  all  her  mental  opera- 
tions, she  retired  to  rest,  and  slept  with  the  se- 
renity of  a  child.  She  was  called  upon  several 
times  by  committees  sent  from  the  revolution- 
ary tribunal  for  examination.  They  were  re- 
solved to  take  her  life,  but  were  anxious  to  do 
tt,  if  possible,  under  the  forms  of  law.  She 
passed  through  all  their  examinations  with  thf. 
iriost  perfect  composure  and  the  most  dignified 
•elf-possession.  Her  enemies  could  not  with- 
hold their  expressions  of  admiration  as  they  s&vi 
bar  in  her  sepulchral  cell  of  stone  and  of  iron, 


288  MADAMS  ROLAND.  [1793 

Mtihrno  Roland's  enthwUun.  Her  Influence  apo»  UK  prifoom 

cheerful,  fascinating,  and  perfectly  at  ease.  She 
knew  that  she  was  to  be  led  from  that  cell  to  a 
violent  death,  and  yet  no  faltering  of  soul  could 
bo  detected.  Her  spirit  had  apparently  achieved 
*  perfect  victory  over  all  earthly  ills. 

The  upper  part  of  the  door  of  her  cell  was  an 
iron  grating.  The  surrounding  cells  were  filled 
w  th  the  most  illustrious  ladies  and  gentlemen 
of  France.  As  the  hour  of  death  drew  near, 
her  courage  and  animation  seemed  to  increase. 
Her  features  glowed  with  enthusiasm ;  her 
thoughts  and  expressions  were  refulgent  with 
sublimity,  and  her  whole  aspect  assumed  the 
impress  of  one  appointed  to  fill  some  great  and 
lofty  destiny.  She  remained  but  a  few  days  in 
the  Conciergerie  before  she  was  led  to  the  scaf- 
fold. During  those  few  days,  by  her  example 
and  her  encouraging  words,  she  spread  among 
the  numerous  prisoners  there  an  enthusiasm  and 
a  spirit  of  heroism  which  elevated,  above  the 
fear  of  the  scaffold,  even  the  most  timid  and  de- 
pressed. This  glow  of  feeling  and  exhilaration 
gave  a  new  impress  of  sweetness  and  fascina- 
tion to  her  beauty,  The  length  of  her  captiv- 
ity, the  calmness  with  which  she  contemplated 
the  certain  approach  of  death,  gave  to  her  voice 
that  depth  of  tone  and  slight  tromulousnese  of 


1793.J      TRIAL    AND   EXECUTION  289 

Madame  Rciand '«  sddreesee  to  the  prisoners.    Effect!  of  her  eloqnene* 

utterance  which  sent  her  eloquent  words  home 
with  thrilling  power  to  every  heart.  Those  who 
were  walking  in  the  corridor,  or  who  were  the 
occupants  of  adjoining  cells,  often  called  for  her 
to  speak  to  them  words  of  encouragement  and 
consolation. 

Standing  upon  a  stool  at  the  door  of  her  own 
cell,  she  grasped  with  her  hands  the  iron  grat- 
ing which  separated  her  from  her  audience. 
This  was  her  tribune.  The  melodious  accents 
of  her  voice  floated  along  the  labyrinthine  ave- 
nues of  those  dismal  dungeons,  penetrating  cell 
after  cell,  and  arousing  energy  in  hearts  which 
had  been  abandoned  to  despair.  It  was,  indeed, 
a  strange  scene  which  was  thus  witnessed  in 
these  sepulchral  caverns.  The  silence,  as  of 
the  grave,  reigned  there,  while  the  clear  and 
musical  tones  of  Madame  Roland,  as  of  an  an- 
gel of  consolation,  vibrated  through  the  rusty 
bars,  and  along  the  dark,  damp  cloisters.  One 
who  was  at  that  time  an  inmate  of  the  prison, 
and  survived  those  dreadful  scenes,  has  describ- 
ed, in  glowing  terms,  the  almost  miraculous 
effects  of  her  soul-moving  eloquence.  She  was 
already  past  the  prime  of  life,  but  she  was  still 
fascinating.  Combined  with  the  most  wonder- 
ful power  of  exuression,  she  possessed  a  voice 

18—19 


290  MADAMS  ROLAND.  [1793 

H»duM  Rol«nd'«  mwrieal  Toice.          HOT  friendihlp  for  the  Gtrondlitt. 

so  exquisitely  musical,  that,  long  after  her  lips 
were  silenced  in  death,  its  tones  vibrated  in  lin- 
gering strains  in  the  souls  of  those  by  whom 
they  had  ever  been  heard.  The  prisoners  list- 
ened with  the  most  profound  attention  to  her 
glowing  words,  and  regarded  her  almost  as  a 
celestial  spirit,  who  had  come  to  animate  them 
to  heroic  deeds.  She  often  spoke  of  the  Girond- 
ists who  had  already  perished  upon  the  guillo- 
tine. With  perfect  fearlessness  she  avowed  her 
friendship  for  them,  and  ever  spoke  of  them  as 
our  friends.  She,  however,  was  careful  never 
to  utter  a  word  which  would  bring  tears  into 
the  eye.  She  wished  to  avoid  herself  all  the 
weakness  of  tender  emotions,  and  to  lure  the 
thoughts  of  her  companions  away  from  every 
contemplation  which  could  enervate  their  en- 
ergies. 

Occasionally,  in  the  solitude  of  her  cell,  as 
the  image  of  her  husband  and  of  her  child  rose 
before  her,  and  her  imagination  dwelt  upon  her 
desolated  home  and  her  blighted  hopes — hei 
husband  denounced  and  pursred  by  lawless  vio- 
lence, and  her  child  soon  tt  be  an  orphan — 
woman's  tenderness  would  triumph  over  the 
heroine's  stoicism.  Burying,  for  a  moment,  her 
face  in  her  hands,  she  would  burst  into  a  flood 


1793.J      TRIAL  AND  EXECUTION          291 

OharmUf  •karaetor  of  Madame  Roland.         She  U  lored  and  ertoomed, 

of  tears.  Immediately  straggling  to  regain 
composure,  she  would  brush  her  tears  away, 
and  dress  her  countenance  in  its  accustomed 
smiles.  She  remained  in  the  Conoiergerie  but 
one  week,  and  during  that  time  so  endeared 
herself  to  all  as  to  become  the  prominent  object 
of  attention  and  love.  Her  case  is  one  of  the 
most  extraordinary  the  history  of  the  world  has 
presented,  in  which  the  very  highest  degree  of 
heroism  is  combined  with  the  most  resistless 
charms  of  feminine  loveliness.  An  un  feminine 
woman  can  never  be  loved  by  men.  She  may 
be  respected  for  her  talents,  she  may  be  honor- 
ed for  her  philanthropy,  but  she  can  not  win 
the  warmer  emotions  of  the  heart.  But  Ma- 
dame Roland,  with  an  energy  of  will,  an  in^ 
ibility  of  purpose,  a  firmness  of  stoical  endur- 
ance which  no  mortal  man  has  ever  exceeded, 
combined  that  gentleness,  and  tenderness,  and 
affection — that  instinctive  sense  of  the  propri 
eties  of  her  sex — which  gathered  around  her  a 
love  as  pure  and  as  enthusiastic  as  woman  ever 
excited.  And  while  her  friends,  many  of  whom 
were  the  most  illustrious  men  in  France,  had 
enthroned  her  as  an  idol  in  their  hearts,  the 
breath  of  slander  never  ventured  to  intimate 
that  she  was  guilty  even  of  an  impropriety. 


292  MADAME    ROLAND 


Madame  Roland's  advocate.  Her  appcaranc*  at  the  tribunal 

The  day  before  her  trial,  her  advocate,  Chau 
yeau  de  la  Garde,  visited  her  to  consult  respect 
ing  her  defense.  She,  well  aware  that  no  one 
could  speak  a  word  in  her  favor  but  at  the  peri] 
of  his  own  life,  and  also  fully  conscious  that  hei 
doom  was  already  sealed,  drew  a  ring  from  her 
finger,  and  said  to  him, 

"  To-morrow  I  shall  be  no  more.  I  know 
the  fate  which  awaits  me.  Your  kind  assist- 
ance can  not  avail  aught  for  me,  and  would  but 
endanger  you.  I  pray  you,  therefore,  not  to 
come  to  the  tribunal,  but  to  accept  of  this  last 
testimony  of  my  regard." 

The  next  day  she  was  led  to  her  trial.  She 
attired  herself  in  a  white  robe,  as  a  symbol  of 
her  innocence,  and  her  long  dark  hair  fell  in 
thick  curie  on  her  neck  and  shoulders.  She 
emerged  from  her  dungeon  a  vision  of  unusual 
loveliness.  The  prisoners  who  were  walking  in 
the  corridors  gathered  around  her,  and  with 
smiles  and  words  of  encouragement  she  infused 
energy  into  their  hearts.  Calm  and  invincible 
•he  met  her  judges  She  was  accused  of  the 
crimes  of  being  the  wife  of  M.  Roland  and  the 
friend  of  his  friends.  Proudly  she  acknowledg- 
ed herself  guilty  of  both  those  charges.  When- 
»-»ar  she  attempted  to  utter  a  word  in  her  de* 


1793.]       TRIAL  AND  EXECUTION  293 


Demand  of  the  president       Madame  Roland's  refusal.      The  aonteno* 

fense,  she  was  brow-beaten  by  the  judges,  and 
silenced  by  the  clamors  of  the  mob  which  filled 
the  tribunal.  The  mob  now  ruled  with  undis- 
puted sway  in  both  legislative  and  executive 
halls.  The  serenity  of  her  eye  was  untroubled, 
and  the  composure  of  her  disciplined  spirit  un- 
moved, save  by  the  exaltation  of  enthusiasm, 
as  she  noted  the  progress  of  the  trial,  which  was 
bearing  her  rapidly  and  resistlessly  to  the  scaf- 
fold. It  was,  however,  difficult  to  bring  any 
accusation  against  her  by  which,  under  the 
form  of  law,  she  could  be  condemned.  France, 
even  in  its  darkest  hour,  was  rather  ashamed 
to  behead  a  woman,  upon  whom  the  eyes  of  all 
Europe  were  fixed,  simply  for  being  the  wife 
of  her  husband  and  the  friend  of  his  friends. 
At  last  the  president  demanded  of  her  that  she 
ghauld  reveal  her  husband's  asylum.  She  proud- 
ly replied, 

"  I  do  not  know  of  any  law  fry  which  I  can 
be  obliged  to  violate  the  strongest  feelings  of 
nature."  This  was  sufficient,  and  she  was  im- 
mediately condemned.  Her  sentence  was  thui 
expressed : 

"  The  public  accuser  has  drawn  up  the  pres- 
ent indictment  against  Jane  Mary  Phlippon, 
the  wife  of  Roland,  late  Minister  of  the  Interior 


294  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1793 

Madame  Roland  •  dignity  and  oalmnew.  She  return*  to  her  oeO. 

for  having  wickedly  and  designedly  aided  and 
assisted  in  the  conspiracy  which  existed  against 
the  unity  and  indivisibility  of  the  Republic, 
against  the  liberty  and  safety  of  the  French  peo* 
pie,  by  assembling,  at  her  house,  in  secret  coun- 
cil, the  principal  chiefs  of  that  conspiracy,  and 
by  keeping  up  a  correspondence  tending  to  fa- 
cilitate their  treasonable  designs.  The  tribu- 
nal, having  heard  the  public  accuser  deliver  his 
reasons  concerning  the  application  of  the  law, 
condemns  Jane  Mary  Phlippon,  wife  of  Roland, 
to  the  punishment  of  death." 

She  listened  calmly  to  her  sentence,  and 
then,  rising,  bowed  with  dignity  to  her  judges, 
and,  smiling,  said, 

"  I  thank  you,  gentlemen,  for  thinking  me 
worthy  of  sharing  the  fate  of  the  great  men 
whom  you  have  assassinated.  I  shall  endeavor 
to  imitate  their  firmness  on  the  scaffold." 

With  the  buoyant  step  of  a  child,  and  with  a 
rapidity  which  almost  betokened  joy,  she  passed 
oeneath  the  narrow  portal,  and  descended  to  her 
oell,  from  which  she  was  to  be  led,  with  the 
morning  light,  to  a  bloody  death.  The  prison- 
ers had  assembled  to  greet  her  on  her  return, 
and  anxiously  gathered  around  her.  She  look- 
ed upon  them  with  a  smile  of  perfect  tranquil- 


1793.]       TRIAL  AND  EXECUTION.           295 

Madam*  Roland's  requiem.      She  attirei  herself  tar  th«  bridal  «f  daith. 

lity,  and,  drawing  her  hand  aoross  her  neck, 
made  a  sign  expressive  of  her  doom.  But  a 
few  hours  elapsed  between  her  sentence  and  her 
execution.  She  retired  to  her  cell,  wrote  a  few 
words  of  parting  to  her  friends,  played,  upon  a 
harp  which  had  found  its  way  into  the  prison, 
her  requiem,  in  tones  so  wild  and  mournful, 
that,  floating,  in  the  dark  hours  of  the  night, 
through  those  sepulchral  caverns,  they  fell  like 
unearthly  music  upon  the  despairing  souls  there 
incarcerated. 

The  morning  of  the  10th  of  November,  1793, 
dawned  gloomily  upon  Paris.  It  was  one  of 
the  darkest  days  of  that  reign  of  terror  which, 
ibr  so  long  a  period,  enveloped  France  in  its 
somber  shades.  The  ponderous  gates  of  the 
court-yard  of  the  Conciergerie  opened  that  morn- 
ing to  a  long  procession  of  carts  loaded  with  vic- 
tims for  the  guillotine.  Madame  Roland  had 
contemplated  her  fate  too  long,  and  had  disci- 
plined her  spirit  too  severely,  to  fail  of  fortitude 
in  this  last  hour  of  trial.  She  came  from  her 
cell  scrupulously  attired  for  the  bridal  of  death. 
A  serene  smile  was  upon  her  cheek,  and  the 
glow  of  joyous  animation  lighted  up  her  feat- 
ures as  she  waved  an  adieu  to  the  weeping  pris- 
oners who  gathered  around  her.  The  last  cart 


296  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1793 

The  ptMage  to  the  guillotine.  Horrlbl*  paitime 

was  assigned  to  Madame  Roland.  She  entered 
it  with  a  step  as  light  and  elastic  as  if  it  were 
a  carriage  for  a  pleasant  morning's  drive.  By 
her  side  stood  an  infirm  old  man,  M.  La  Marche. 
He  was  pale  and  trembling,  and  his  fainting 
heart,  in  view  of  the  approaching  terror,  almost 
ceased  to  beat.  She  sustained  him  by  her  arm, 
and  addressed  to  him  words  of  consolation  and 
encouragement,  in  cheerful  accents  and  with  a 
benignant  smile.  The  poor  old  man  felt  that 
God  had  sent  an  angel  to  strengthen  him  in  the 
dark  hour  of  death.  As  the  cart  heavily  rum- 
bled along  the  pavement,  drawing  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  guillotine,  two  or  three  times,  by 
her  cheerful  words,  she  even  caused  a  smile 
faintly  to  play  upon  his  pallid  lips. 

The  guillotine  was  now  the  principal  instru- 
ment of  amusement  for  the  populace  of  Paris. 
It  was  so  elevated  that  all  could  have  a  good 
view  of  the  spectacle  it  presented.  To  witness 
*he  conduct  of  nobles  and  of  ladies,  of  boys  and 
of  girls,  while  passing  through  the  horrors  of  * 
sanguinary  death,  was  far  more  exciting  than 
the  unreal  and  bombastic  tragedies  of  the  thea- 
ter, or  the  conflicts  of  the  cock-pit  and  the  bear 
garden.  A  countless  throng  flooded  the  street* , 
men,  women,  and  children,  shouting,  laughing,, 


1793.)       TRIAL  AND  RTECHTIOM.  29? 

Madame  Roland's  Appearance  in  the  cart  She  address**  the  mob 

execrating.  The  celebrity  of  Madame  Roland, 
her  extraordinary  grace  and  beauty,  and  her 
aspect,  not  only  of  heroic  fearlessness,  but  of 
joyous  exhilaration,  made  her  the  prominent 
object  of  the  public  gaze.  A  white  robe  grace- 
fully enveloped  her  perfect  form,  and  her  black 
and  glossy  hair,  which  for  some  reason  the  exe- 
cutioners had  neglected  to  cut,  fell  in  rich  pro- 
fusion to  her  waist.  A  keen  November  blast 
swept  the  streets,  under  the  influence  of  which, 
and  the  excitement  of  the  scene,  her  animated 
countenance  glowed  with  all  the  ruddy  bloom 
of  youth.  She  stood  firmly  in  the  cart,  looking 
with  a  serene  eye  upon  the  crowds  which  lined 
the  streets,  and  listening  with  unruffled  seren- 
ity to  the  clamor  which  filled  the  air.  A  large 
crowd  surrounded  the  cart  in  which  Madame 
Roland  stood,  shouting,  "  To  the  guillotine !  to 
the  guillotine !"  She  looked  kindly  upon  them, 
and,  bending  over  the  railing  of  the  cart,  said 
to  them,  in  tones  as  placid  as  if  she  were  ad- 
dressing her  own  child,  "  My  friends,  I  am  going 
to  the  guillotine.  In  a  few  moments  I  shall  be 
there.  They  who  send  me  thither  will  ere  long 
follow  me.  I  go  innocent.  They  will  come  stain- 
ed with  blood.  You  who  now  applaud  our  exe- 
cution will  then  applaud  theirs  with  equal  zeal" 


298  MADAME  ROLAND.  [1793 

f  owerfttl  •motion*  of  Madame  Roland.  Work  of  the  executioner*. 

Madame  Roland  had  continued  writing  her 
memoirs  until  the  hour  in  which  she  left  her 
cell  for  the  scaffold.  When  the  cart  had  almost 
arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  guillotine,  her  spirit 
was  so  deeply  moved  by  the  tragic  scene— such 
emotions  came  rushing  in  upon  her  soul  from 
departing  time  and  opening  eternity,  that  she 
could  not  repress  the  desire  to  pen  down  her 
glowing  thoughts.  She  entreated  an  officer  to 
furnish  her  for  a  moment  with  pen  and  paper. 
The  request  was  refused.  It  is  much  to  be  re- 
gretted  that  we  are  thus  deprived  of  that  un- 
written chapter  of  her  life.  It  can  not  be  doubt- 
ed that  the  words  she  would  then  have  written 
would  have  long  vibrated  upon  the  ear  of  a  lis- 
tening world.  Soul-utterances  will  force  their 
way  over  mountains,  and  valleys,  and  oceans. 
Despotism  can  not  arrest  them.  Time  can  not 
enfeeble  them. 

The  long  procession  arrived  at  the  guillotine, 
and  the  bloody  work  commenced.  The  victims 
were  dragged  from  the  carts,  and  the  ax  rose 
and  fell  with  unceasing  rapidity.  Head  after 
head  fell  into  the  basket,  and  the  pile  of  bleed- 
ing trunks  rapidly  increased  in  size.  The  ex- 
eontioners  approached  the  cart  where  Madame 
Rf  land  stood  by  the  side  of  her  fainting  com- 


1793.]      TRIAL  AND   EXECUTION.         299 

Scene  at  the  scaffold.  Execution  of  the  old  mm. 

pafiion.  With  an  animated  countenance  and  a 
cheerful  smile,  she  was  all  engrossed  in  endeav- 
oring to  infuse  fortitude  into  his  soul.  The  ex- 
ecutioner grasped  her  by  the  arm.  "  Stay," 
said  she,  slightly  resisting  his  grasp ;  "I  have 
one  favor  to  ask,  and  that  is  not  for  myself.  I 
beseech  you  grant  it  me."  Then  turning  to  the 
old  man,  she  said,  "  Do  you  precede  me  to  the 
scaffold.  To  see  mj  blood  flow  would  make 
you  suffer  the  bitterness  of  death  twice  over. 
I  must  spare  you  the  pain  of  witnessing  my  ex- 
ecution." The  stern  officer  gave  a  surly  refus- 
al, replying,  "  My  orders  are  to  take  you  first." 
With  that  winning  smile  and  that  fascinating 
grace  which  were  almost  resistless,  she  rejoined, 
"  You  can  not,  surely,  refuse  a  woman  her  last 
request."  The  hard-hearted  executor  of  the  law 
was  brought  within  the  influence  of  her  enchant- 
ment. He  paused,  looked  at  her  for  a  moment 
in  slight  bewilderment,  and  yielded.  The  poor 
old  man,  more  dead  than  alive,  was  conducted 
upon  the  scaffold  and  placed  beneath  the  fatal 
ax.  Madame  Roland,  without  the  slightest 
change  of  color,  or  the  apparent  tremor  of  a 
nerve,  saw  the  ponderous  instrument,  with  its 
glittering  edge,  glide  upon  its  deadly  mission, 
and  the  decapitated  trunk  of  her  friend  wa« 


300  MADAME   ROLAND.  [1793 

Situation  of  the  guillotine.  Death  of  Madame  RoUoA. 

thrown  aside  to  give  place  for  her.  With  a  plao- 
id  countenance  and  a  buoyant  step,  she  ascend, 
ed  the  platform.  The  guillotine  was  erected 
upon  the  vacant  spot  between  the  gardens  of 
the  Tuileries  and  the  Elysian  Fields,  then 
known  as  the  Place  de  la  Revolution.  This 
spot  is  now  called  the  Place  de  la  Concorde. 
It  is  unsurpassed  by  any  other  place  in  Europe. 
Two  marble  fountains  now  embellish  the  spot. 
The  blood-stained  guillotine,  from  which  crim- 
son rivulets  were  ever  flowing,  then  occupied 
the  space  upon  which  one  of  these  fountains  has 
been  erected ;  and  a  clay  statue  to  Liberty  reared 
its  hypocritical  front  where  the  Egyptian  obe- 
lisk now  rises.  Madame  Roland  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment upon  the  elevated  platform,  looked  calm- 
ly  around  upon  the  vast  concourse,  and  then 
bowing  before  the  colossal  statue,  exclaimed, 
"  O  Liberty !  Liberty !  how  many  crimes  are 
committed  in  thy  name."  She  surrendered  her- 
self to  the  executioner,  and  was  bound  to  the 
plank.  The  plank  fell  to  its  horizontal  position, 
bringing  her  head  under  the  fatal  ax.  The  glit- 
tering steel  glided  through  the  groove,  and  the 
head  of  Madame  Roland  was  severed  from  her 
body. 

Thus  died  Madame  Roland,  in  the  thirty- 


1793.]      TRIAL  AND  EXECUTION.          303 

Wonderful  attachment  Grief  of  M.  Roland 

ninth  year  of  her  age.  Her  death  oppressed  all 
who  had  known  her  with  the  deepest  grief 
Her  intimate  friend  Buzot,  who  was  then  a  fu- 
gitive, on  hearing  the  tidings,  was  thrown  into 
a  state  of  perfect  delirium,  from  which  he  did 
not  recover  for  many  days.  Her  faithful  fe- 
male servant  was  so  overwhelmed  with  grief, 
that  she  presented  herself  before  the  tribunal, 
and  implored  them  to  let  her  die  upon  the  same 
scaffold  where  her  beloved  mistress  had  perish- 
ed. The  tribunal,  amazed  at  such  transports 
of  attachment,  declared  that  she  was  mad,  and 
ordered  her  to  be  removed  from  their  presence. 
A  man-servant  made  the  same  application,  and 
was  sent  to  the  guillotine. 

The  grief  of  M.  Roland,  when  apprised  of  the 
event,  was  unbounded.  For  a  time  he  entirely 
lost  his  senses.  Life  to  him  was  no  longer  en- 
durable. He  knew  not  of  any  consolations  of 
religion.  Philosophy  could  only  nerve  him  to 
etoicism.  Privately  he  left,  by  night,  the  kind 
friends  who  had  hospitably  concealed  him  for 
six  months,  and-  wandered  to  such  a  distance 
from  his  asylum  as  to  secure  his  protectors  from 
any  danger  on  his  account.  Through  the  long 
hours  of  the  winter's  night  he  continued  hi* 
dreary  walk,  till  the  first  gray  of  the  morning 


304  .MAC*  ME  ROLAND.  [1793, 

D«*th  of  M.  Roland.  Subsequent  life  of  Endora 

appeared  in  the  east.  Drawing  a  long  stiletto 
from  the  inside  of  his  walking-stick,  he  placed 
the  head  of  it  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  and 
threw  himself  upon  the  sharp  weapon.  The 
point  pierced  his  heart,  and  he  fell  lifeless  upon 
the  frozen  ground.  Some  peasants  passing  by 
discovered  his  body.  A  piece  of  paper  was  pin- 
ned to  the  breast  of  his  coat,  upon  which  there 
were  written  these  words:  "Whoeverthou  art 
that  findest  these  remains,  respect  them  as  those 
of  a  virtuous  man.  After  hearing  of  my  wife's 
death,  I  would  not  stay  another  day  in  a  world 
so  stained  with  crime." 

The  daughter*  of  Madame  Roland  succeeded 
in  escaping  the  fury  of  the  tyrants  of  the  Rev- 
olution. She  lived  surrounded  by  kind  protec- 
tors, and  in  subsequent  years  was  married  to 
M.  Champeneaux,  the  son  of  one  of  her  moth- 
er's intimate  friends. 

Such  was  the  wonderful  career  of  Madame 
Roland  It  is  a  history  full  of  instruction,  and 
ever  reminds  us  that  truth  is  stranger  than 
fiction. 


THE  END. 


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